


Color my Feelings

by just_a_bowl_of_ramen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Artist!Iwaizumi, Atsumu and Tooru are best friends, BoKuroo broship, Everyone is mentioned at least once, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, I mean e v e r y o n e, Kissing, M/M, MSBY without Bokuto, Manga Spoilers, Mentions of alcohol, Mutual Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a healthy amount, im not really funny tho, mild anxiety, suspicious!Oikawa, this is just for me to write unnecessary amounts of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26724331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_a_bowl_of_ramen/pseuds/just_a_bowl_of_ramen
Summary: “Do you want a room-”“No.”"Please."And boy did Kuroo sound desperate.Here’s the thing. Hajime doesn’t want or need a roommate. They were annoying as hell if you asked him. Sharing a space with another person was aggravating. Oh, and privacy. There was never any of that. His point was further proven when Oikawa Tooru shows up to his front door with suitcases, and boxes surrounding his front door. (Did I mention that he has a box full of Hajime's paintings?)*     *     *People from all over Japan come to see and buy Hajime's paintings. The publics only problem? No one knows who he is. Tooru is determined to discover the mysterious painter and why Hajime constantly locks himself in a room, or is it a studio?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 29
Kudos: 182
Collections: maazeesfavs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I decided to try a prompt that's been stuck in my head. And I'm pretty clueless when writing *sweats* but I'm trying? Updates should be on Sundays. Every week, or every other week. Depends on my mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: 11/4/2020 - I added more paragraph breaks because when I read this on my phone it was dragging through. And I know that It can get really annoying. None of the story was changed, or dialogue. Only more paragraph breaks.

Hajime barely made it out of bed and into his kitchen when Kuroo burst through the door. But instead of his overbearing playboy persona that he’s usually carrying around, he comes in looking a little distressed, and worn-down. Almost like he came here on instinct but then forgot why.

The worst part? He brought Agedashi tofu. The perfect bribe (for Hajime at least).

Hajime was the first to speak, “G’morning,” While running his hands through his bedhead, not that it could compete with Kuroo’s. The taller of the two handed over the meal with a sheepish smile. That couldn’t mean anything good, especially since Kuroo rarely acted out of character.

Hajime lifted a brow towards him in hoping he would finally speak. Silent conversations were not his forte. “So…” Hajime tried again while he put the bag on the half wall separating the kitchen to the rest of the apartment.

He sifted through the bag taking out items and setting them on the counter while Kuroo mulled over his thoughts. The food was still hot which was a good sign that he asked Daichi to make it, and there was a small container of hot sauce clearly put in by Suga.

Kuroo cleared his throat, “So,” Hajime leaned his hip on the counter and waited. Knowing this was probably (not really) going to be the last time he would accept a favor from Kuroo. Kuroo already owed him a lot, and the list kept growing by the month. Sure, the favors were slowly being paid back, but at the snail-like pace he was going at they weren’t going to get very far.

“I have a favor,” Kuroo finally looked Hajime in the eye searching for a reaction. He wasn’t going to give him one. “I owe someone a favor, who also owes _his_ friend a favor. And well, I was wondering if you can help me just this once?”

Hajime’s face was already set into a deep scowl. Kuroo was holding off the actual favor for some reason. Which made him frown a little. Normally, Kuroo would just shout out what he needed the second he entered. Hajime still didn’t say anything. This was going to be bad. He could feel it. Waiting for Kuroo to finish, he gave a stiff nod of his head to let the man continue.

“Do you want a room-”

“No.”

“ _Please_.” And boy did Kuroo sound desperate.

Here’s the thing. Hajime doesn’t want or need a roommate. They were annoying as hell if you asked him. Sharing a space with another person was aggravating. Oh, and privacy. There was never any of that. His first year of college he decided to try dorming. Didn’t end well, because four months later he was renting a three bedroom apartment, and moving the _fuck_ away from campus.

The biggest red flag being that he was close to being exposed. _Never again_ , he’d told himself. He enjoyed his personal space, and stuff was easier to maintain. The rent was kind of expensive but he had the money. He already had Kuroo and Bokuto who acted as if his apartment was theirs. Another person would just add to his suffering.

“Wait. just let me explain before you throw me out.” If Kuroo was good at chemistry, then he was just as good at guilt tripping with the way he was looking at Hajime right now. Or maybe he was just getting soft.

“Five minutes.” Was all Hajime said before he opened the drawer in front of him to get chopsticks and start digging in. He’d have to give Daichi a new spatula or something because each time Hajime has his food it keeps getting better. Kuroo immediately started explaining while the former ate.

“Ok, so I haven’t gotten a lot of info yet, nor do I personally know him,” Hajime started frowning again. “But I do know that the guy is pretty chill, and goes to the same university as you. He’s an architect major,” Great, he can already imagine what a disaster this was going to be if he agreed, “He won’t disturb you, and he normally holes himself in his room eighty percent of the time. At least that’s what Akaashi said. He’ll split the rent with you, and he cleans up after himself. Not the guy for hook-ups, or one night stands so you won’t have to worry about that. And…” Kuroo trails off glancing at Hajime quickly before coughing. “Yeah, that’s it so-”

“You said ‘And’” Hajime interrupts. The guy Kuroo was talking about doesn’t seem bad, except for the architect major thing. He could already imagine projects littering his (or their?) floor. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Especially if Kuroo made him seem like an introvert.

Hajime is ninety-nine percent sure that he’d barely speak to the guy. Since Hajime was also holed up in a room for hours on end. Maybe their lives would be completely separate. Co-existing but never intertwined.

Kuroo looked Hajime in the eye. There was a flame dancing in Kuroo’s eyes, like he was about to scare his whole class of high schoolers with a simple explosion. With his signature smirk plastered on his face he said, “And,” he started, “I think it’ll be good for ya. You're always so lonely, and you need some company around you know? I’ll say you said yes, get more info, and run before you punch me.”

Hajime was half way out of his seat with his fist clenched the moment Kuroo made a decision for him. 

“I didn’t give you an answer you dipshit.” He growled.

“You were considering it!” And with that Kuroo was already out tapping away at his phone.

Kuroo wasn’t wrong. Hajime was thinking about it already. About how terrible the situation could be. He didn’t _want_ a roommate. He was perfectly contempt with living by himself. In solitude where he wasn’t constantly at risk of being caught. Getting attention put on him twenty-four seven was not something he enjoyed. Ukai, Irihata, and Kiyoko had to deal with that. Not Hajime, _never_ Hajime. 

Coming up with hundreds of _What If’s_ throughout his morning while he got ready to head to class already gave him a headache. But.. Kuroo did say the guy mostly kept to himself. The “And” kept coming back to him though. He was keeping something from Hajime. _And what?_ Kuroo didn’t even know the guy who might or might not be moving in with him.

_Why me?_ He thought. Why not Suga and Daichi? Or Kuroo himself. He knows that Kuroo has an extra room, but he does live with Kenma and - oh, that makes a lot more sense to him now. Hajime lived by himself, and he had the biggest apartment out of all of them. _Great. Amazing. Best day of my life. Someone please kill me now._

* * *

The last few days were uneventful to say the least. Kuroo was avoiding Hajime at all costs. Not that he could blame him. Hajime was mad, wait no _furious_ , because now he’d be getting a new roommate that he didn’t even agree to.

What made his day worse was the assignment he was supposed to complete on the famous Tanji Washijo in less than six hours. (Hajime hasn’t started yet.) The only interesting thing about that man was his terrible eyebrows. Why was Art History even a college course? Of course Irihata-san made him take it. Something about learning the old before the new. Yeah, that man acted like he lived in the 50’s.

Once he turned the corner he saw a group of at least fifteen girls surrounding someone. - That someone? Oikawa Tooru. The campus heartthrob, sweetheart, player, and every other word relating to those three. He was an architect major so Hajime had no idea why he would be in the Art department. Maybe something with 3D modeling? He doubted it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like architectural design. He had a few paintings and assignments with buildings as the main subject. But it seemed like _child's play_. Like someone downloaded one of those crappy house design games and said ‘I want to do this for a living.’ - And the group was standing right in front of the classroom.

He doesn’t recall having any classes with Oikawa. Hajime would’ve known from the fangirls constantly following him around like lost puppies. And Hajime really needed to get to class. He tried slipping through the small gap between one of the girls. “Excuse me.”

They ignored him, continuing to laugh at something Oikawa said when he saw the bag on the girl’s shoulder slipping off. Before it could fall and crush whatever was inside Hajime quickly put his hand out catching the bag.

“Oh, thank you!” said the girl taking the bag from Hajime’s outstretched hand. Again, he was ignored by everyone else, but there was a silence to the atmosphere. He could practically feel the burning gaze on the side of his face. He spared a glance and was met with ice, or was it a flame? A hybrid of both maybe. He turned away from the group and opened the classroom door.

With a relieved smile on his face he entered the classroom. _Safe_. “Hey Neko-sensei.” he said. Waving to the man writing on the big whiteboard in front of the class.

The teacher was fairly old. He looked to be in his seventies. With grayed hair, and a round face just starting to sag at the cheekbones. Nekomata had been teaching for years. Some say he’s immortal since he always seemed energetic, and never had to stop the lessons for a small break. It was like he went on watered down battery acid. Which reminded him of a certain orange-haired person.

“Iwa! How are you my boy.” Nekomata turned around with a warm smile on his face, and eyes scrunched up. He capped up his marker and set it down on his desk walking over to Hajime. The best feeling was when you had one-on-one time with him. He always gave you his fullest attention, and made you feel wanted. Hajime nodded with a warm smile playing on his lips. 

Nekomata placed a heavy hand on Hajime's shoulder. Opening his eyes wider and looking at Hajime like he was about to pounce unexpectedly. 

Hajime started sweating. Running his hands along the straps of his backpack, and looking around the classroom at the clusters of students gathered around the room. The paintings hung on the walls. Anywhere besides that piercing gaze that looked like he knew all the secrets in the world. Hajime wouldn’t be surprised if Neko-sensei knew who he was. When he looked back, Nekomata's gaze softened just a tad. Barely there unless you looked close enough.

“Forty-eight hours.” Hajime let out a large breath. No one could get past Neko-sensei. But for him to give you more time was a miracle from the heavens. Nekomata nodded, and let go of the shoulder he was gripping.

Walking back to the front of the classroom and clapping his hands. Another thing about him. Even though he was a head shorter than Hajime he was still terrifying. “I have melon bread!”

The room hushed to a whisper as everyone started settling down into their seats, and taking out their things. Hajime heard a few students sighing as if they’ve been given another chance at life. He looked towards the board and saw the same words Neko-sensei repeated to him. 

While Sensei was getting ready for the lesson, Hajime took out a small sketchbook from his bag along with an H, F, and 2HB pencil. He never brought much with him when he went out. He wanted to keep all his expensive supplies stored in his studio and away from harm.

“Now I know why no one finished the assignment on time. Tanji’s eyebrows are the only thing holding his reputation,” People started chuckling, “,and he just won’t die. Damn it. How am I supposed to get the champagne if he won’t leave.” Nekomata mumbled, and the classroom erupted into laughter. 

Everyone knew the history between Washijo and Nekomata. They were both volleyball coaches when they were younger. Rivals who constantly fought for the ticket to nationals. Shiratorizawa concentrated on power, and height, while Nekoma used skill. It was mostly Shiratorizawa who made it, but every now and then the ‘brain’ of Nekoma would come up with a plan to completely crush them.

Kenma was one of them. He led the team to nationals twice because of his smart thinking. It put a strain on him though, to the point he couldn’t continue in college even if he wanted to. He got sick very easily because of his weak immune system and after a rough game he’d be bedridden for days. He still played for fun when he had the chance. Hajime remembered when his team went against Nekoma. Kenma’s sharp calculating gaze, looking at each player like a chess piece. A new video game that he could win in one go. When Kenma’s eyes raked over him Hajime knew to never get on that guy’s bad side. He shivered from the memory.

Hajime barely put a fraction of his attention towards listening to the lecture. Instead he stared at the blank page of his opened sketchbook willing for an idea to come to mind. 

_Ah,_ There it was. That click in his brain telling his hand to move. The thought doesn’t last very long. Hajime knows that. A spark of inspiration that dies after a few moments. He takes that moment to sketch lines in the upper left corner of the page. A faint, barely noticeable circle, with a plus in the middle. From there he’s gone. Any smidge of attention on the lesson vanished. Not like he was intending to listen anyway.

Light shining, creating ripples, and pits, a black and white sea all contained in a small circle. The center pitch black, a vortex sucking the lines in. A perfectly rounded eyelid, just slightly bigger towards the inner corner. Long thick lashes just slightly curled at the ends. Thin delicate brows slightly arched. No single hair out of place. A gentle gaze, like the drawing was in a dream. No harshness, no icy hot stare leering at him. 

A slow curve, a gentle slope. Everything about this was soft, and elegant. The tip slightly tilted up. Dainty, like a small breeze could break it. Freckles dotted around. So light, and so pale that they were hardly noticeable if you weren’t trained to see them. _I wonder how it would feel to kiss the-_ “Iwaizumi.”

Hajime looked up from his paper. Neko-sensei staring straight at him with that piercing gaze of his. He could feel a few of his classmates staring at him. He didn’t mean to get lost within the drawings. But it was hard not too. The lesson was boring enough that he would’ve been distracted by something else anyway. “When was Ukai Keishin born?”

Ukai.. He could imagine gears turning in Neko-sensei’s mind. Connecting random parts, and seeing if they would turn. It seemed like he got a portion of them to work. Hajime answered, “April 5, 1986.”

“ _Hmm._ “ Good, Hajime didn’t mess up. “He’s related to a good friend of mine. Ukai also coached for volleyball but soon left to establish a name for himself in the art industry. He’s pretty famous now. I bet most of you have heard of him at least once.” Nekomata turned towards the board, “He’s the owner of the Karasuno and Aoba Johsai gallery’s with Nobuteru Irihata. They both co-own each other.”

Walking towards a closet bringing out a bag of melon bread, he started handing them out. “Ha, they both hated each other now look what happened in the end.”

Nekomata wasn’t looking at Hajime anymore, but he couldn’t shake off the eerie feeling that he knew a lot more than he let on. Hajime did everything he could to hide his identity. He wanted his paintings to be known, not himself as a person. He knew that it would bring chaos if people found him out. Imagining interviewers asking for information, and peaking into his personal life made him uncomfortable. He’d rather have his paintings show who he is, than him verbally speaking it. 

Once class ended Hajime packed his stuff and walked towards the door, melon bread in hand. He really doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now. His paranoia is getting to him. 

Upon leaving the classroom he almost ran into a group of students. The hallways were packed with people walking to their classes, or leaving. Hajime’s current goal being the latter. Quickening his pace to get to the front door faster.

He’s shuffling around in his bag searching for his phone when he feels a heavy weight land on his back. He stumbles forward when his bag falls off his shoulder and drops to the ground. His books, and pencils scatter around the floor.

“I’m so sorry. Really, really, sorry. I was rushing and I didn’t see you there.” There were people sparing glances as they rushed through the hallway. No time to stop and see what happened, or even help. Except for one. _Ah just my luck,_ he thought. In front of him was the person who he just happened to bump into again. It seemed that Oikawa wouldn't stop rambling, “I was going to a class, and I wasn’t looking at where I was going and-”

“It’s fine.” He wheezed out. He prayed that his phone wasn’t cracked. He started gathering his pencils when Oikawa joined and helped pick up his books. His phone was indeed not cracked. At least that was a plus to his day.

Hajime grabbed his backpack from where it laid beside him to put his stuff away. They worked in silence for a few seconds only the rustling of materials being put away, footsteps, and disjointed conversations around them before everything was packed. Oikawa was the first to stand up, glancing down at his own bag resting across his body, and held out his hand towards Hajime to help him up.

Hajime gripped his hand still using most of his own weight to help himself up, and slung his bag over his shoulder. Oikawa’s hand lingered for a moment longer, fingers softly sliding along his palm before dropping to his side, and _wow_ his hand was soft. Was it weird to compare the feel of someone's hand to the smooth taste of custard? Was that even comparable? 

He smiled a charming smile, or what was supposed to be one. It didn’t seem genuine, instead it seemed practiced. A model who knew just what kind of smile to use during a photoshoot.

“Thanks.” Ohhh, he was bad at conversation. Hajime wanted to punch himself for being so dry. Oikawa’s smile turned into a smirk. It reminded him of Kuroo’s own. _They’d get along pretty well._ He thought. 

“No problem.” With an equally dry response. Oikawa turned around and started walking away from Hajime. After a few steps he stopped and turned his head staring straight at him. Still smirking but this time with a glint of mischief in his eyes. He winked, “I’ll see you around.” With a wave of his fingers he turned back around and left.

Hajime, still feeling dazed, looked after him for a few seconds longer before turning towards the exit. His bag felt a little lighter than earlier, maybe that was just him.

* * *

At the intersection Tooru stopped walking waiting for the light to signal. He dug through his bag slung across his torso. He grabbed the book and examined it. Glancing at a few pages he saw drawings. Most done in pencil, a few in pen, and some both.

Pages covered in flowers, buildings, faces, and more. It was full of creativity. Some very messy sketches turned into intricate pieces. To think someone like _that_ could draw like _this_. He expected messy scribbles, badly written notes, and bent pages. This was the complete opposite. He should stop judging people quickly.

He closed the book wanting to look into it more for later. Moving with the crowd of students he walked across the road. At the end of the street there was a set of stairs going underground. He took the next train to Akaashi’s place. He held onto a pole squeezed between students, and workers. 

He was alone with his thoughts again. This time they kept coming back to a calloused hand, a slight scowl, and sharp eyes. He didn’t know the color of them, yet he’d like to know. He knew the man took a history class, but that’s about it. He wanted to know more. 

He was shook out of his thoughts from the speakers that indicated he was at his destination. Getting off the train he headed up, and went to the complex a block away.

“Aka-chan! I’m Back~”

“Hey Tooru.” 

“Toss me a pen.” Tooru stepped through the bedroom door and set down his bag. He started taking out his books and laptop, heading towards the bed. Letting them scatter messily across the comforter, he sat at the edge bouncing his leg.

Akaashi squinted at him from his desk. He was hunched over his laptop, and three different textbooks. “Don’t you have one?”

“Funny story, I was kind of rushing and-” Not letting him finish, Akaashi tossed him a pencil. He caught it before it could hit his face, fumbling it around his hand. He knew how much Tooru hated these kinds of pencils. How cruel humans could be. 

“ _Aka-channnn._ ” he whined. Tooru twirled the pencil between his fingers. It was better than nothing. He just didn’t prefer using the long hexagonal pencils. It also wasn’t a pen. Which he had asked for.

“You’ve lost five of my pens. Buy your own.” He deadpanned. Akaashi stood up from his desk taking his glasses off, and came over to the bed sitting next to him. He used his finger tracing patterns on Tooru’s bouncing thigh. “I found a place for you. Kuroo said that the guy agreed, and that you can move in whenever.”

His leg slowed down to a stop, just his foot shaking now. Akaashi continued, “You know the Aoba Johsai Gallery you’re obsessed with?” Tooru lightly punched his shoulder, “It’s about a twenty minute walk from there, and it’s about a 10 min walk to school. So you won’t have to take the train anymore.”

“Who’s this Kuroo person?”

“He owns me a favor.”

“You didn’t answer my question. He could be a serial killer setting me up.”

He sighed, “He’s a student teacher who teaches chemistry. So yes, he could be a serial killer who intends to kill you with explosions, or chemicals. Now are you agreeing or not.”

“Do I know the person I’m supposedly moving in with?”

“No? His name is Iwaizumi Hajime if that rings any bells.”

It doesn’t, but it feels like he should know it. “Nope, and yes. I’ll ask Tsumu-chan if he wants to help us with boxes.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts tapping on one.

**_To: Twin #1_ **

**_ >>(3:15) Tsumu-chan~! Aka-chan found me a place :D I need to see how weak you are when carrying boxes up the stairs_ **

Akaashi chuckled, then stood up and said he was going to get some water. A few moments later he received an answer.

**_From: Twin #1_ **

**_> >(3:16) ur only saying that becuz u don’t want your hair soaked in sweat_ **

He wasn’t exactly lying. Sweat soaked hair was a nightmare. 

**_From: Twin #1_ **

**_> >(3:16) when?_ **

“Aka-chan! Do you have time on Friday!” he shouted right as Akaashi turned the corner.

“I’m deaf, please shout louder.” Tooru took a deep breath. “Wait, no stop, yes I do.”

**_To: Twin #1_ **

**_> >(3:18) Day after tmrw_ **

**_> >(3:18) Omi-chan can come and help too! I know u wanna see how strong he is ;)_ **

**_From: Twin #1_ **

**_> >(3:19) no u pervert i already know how strong he is_ **

**_> >(3:20) mattsuns coming. I told him to draw 2 moles above his eyebrow since ur thirsting for my b o y f r i e n d that bad_ **

**_To: Twin #1_ **

**_> >(3:20) Oh fuck off u ass wipe. I saw someone wayyy hotter than them today anyway_ **

**_> >(3:20) I’m going to fry my brain rn. C u later <3_ **

Tooru turned his ringer off knowing the complaints to stop studying and take a break were going to come soon. Then set his phone down on the nightstand, and opened his laptop. He sat with his legs crossed, placing his laptop in his lap. He flipped through one of his textbooks, and began studying.

Hours went by while he was absorbed in his work. He didn’t notice Akaashi finishing, or when he left the room. He blocked out the distant noise of pans being placed on the stove. He was juggling between his physics homework and trigonometry when he smelled, more than heard Akaashi cooking. It was enough to make him come back to reality and realize how late it had gotten. He looked to his left where an alarm clock sat. Only six hours had passed. _I could study for a few more._

Glancing at his phone he saw a message pop up. 

**_32 Unread Messages from Twin #1_ **

**_> >(9:28) istg if you aren’t taking a break right now ill… (unlock for full message)_ **

Yeah, Tooru should really call it a night if the death threats he was getting were anything to go by. He typed out a quick message saying he was done for the day. Placing the laptop (which was almost dead) beside him, he stretched out his legs, careful of the textbook in front of him.

Reaching for his toes he felt his back pop, wrists slightly aching from typing. He slid his legs off the bed and stood up immediately feeling dizzy. He was very tired. Getting barely enough sleep to call it healthy. He could say he’s insomniac, but that would be a very obvious lie knowing how much he studies. 

The scent of green onions and chili oil brought him out to the kitchen. The window was slightly ajar letting in a cool breeze. Akaashi had changed into his pajamas. A dark blue long sleeve with grey sweats making his figure look longer, and slimmer.

He set a glass of water on the counter, and Tooru sat down drinking slowly. “How much chili oil do you want?” Akaashi asked.

“Fried rice?” He made a sound of approval. “One spoon.”

Akaashi didn’t say anything else, just the soft clattering of utensils being heard. Tooru set his cheek against the cool countertop. He didn’t feel like filling in the silence. Talking was already too difficult when his eyes couldn’t stay open for more than five seconds.

A small bowl of fried rice was placed in front of him, and he sat up. Akaashi sat across from him. They said their blessings and dug in.

Akaashi’s cooking was good, great even. With something as simple as the meal they were having, it still tasted like he went to eat at a restaurant. They ate in silence, both of them too exhausted to start conversation.

When they finished Tooru gathered the dishes, and started rinsing them. It was the least he could do since he was crashing rent free. 

He dried his hands after putting the last spoon away. Dragging his feet to the bedroom to put away his things. A futon was already rolled out beside the bed, and Tooru wanted nothing more than to just lay down, and forget about the work waiting for him the next day. 

Putting his books away and charging his laptop, he headed to the bathroom to wash up. He passed Akaashi who handed him a melatonin pill. He didn’t take them often, but after long study sessions he always used them. His brain was still stuck in _study mode._ Which lead to bad habits of staying up.

He swallowed the pill with the glass of water on the sink top. After brushing his teeth, and cleansing his face he finally headed back to the futon waiting for him. 

Akaashi was on his phone already settled into his blankets. That man was always tired but somehow still had the slightest energy to function. Tooru didn’t know how he did it. He quickly changed out of his jeans to just his boxers, and pulled on a hoodie. He slipped into the futon, and felt the meds kick in, instantly making him more drowsy.

“Good night Tooru.” Akaashi’s voice felt far away. He didn’t know if he mumbled out words or just strings of letters before he let sleep overtake him.

* * *

Takahiro wasn’t rude. He was just blunt, and sarcastic. At least that’s what he thought when he half-heartedly apologized for _accidentally_ spilling coffee on a customer. What could he say? Someone ordering a drink with more than four words was already put on his shit list. Best friend included.

“Makki! Look what you did-”

“I have eyes.” He interrupted.

Oikawa’s lips pulled down into a pout while glaring at him. _Geez, was he still twelve?_ “Besides,” Takahiro already shoving him towards the back room, “I have a teal shirt that’ll look way better on you.”

Oikawa reluctantly stopped pushing against him. He wasn’t that cruel to do that to his best friend. The drink had been iced, and he _was_ making him look hotter than he already was. Not that Takahiro would say that out loud. That would only grow his terrible ego. Who could deny that Oikawa was hot? It was painfully obvious even without him bragging about himself. “I already have to deal with moving tomorrow. Can’t you make my life a little easier?”

“By helping you? Nah, I bet you already have Akaashi, and the hot blond helping.” He dug around his locker handing a towel to Oikawa who snatched it from his hands. “Who are you moving in with?”

“Aka-chan said his name was Iwaizumi Hajime. That’s such a mouthful to say, do-”

“You know Iwaizumi?” Now that was some good information right there. He was already coming up with a scheme.

Oikawa looked at him confused. “No? Do you?”

“Nah, I just heard of him.” He lied. Oikawa wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Instead pulling his shirt off, and changing into the clothes he gave him. Turning the conversation he said, “What time are you going?”

“I’m planning to leave around four-thirty. A few of my friends are planning to help me. The offer still stands if you want to give me a hand.” glancing at Takahiro from the side. He shot back an unamused look, raising an eyebrow mockingly. He’d be watching instead of helping. 

Oikawa finished changing. Tucking the teal button-up into his jeans leaving the front open revealing a white T-shirt underneath. Placing the plastic bag with his shirt inside the locker he closed it.

They went back to the front near the counters. Oikawa’s previous order, newly made by Kunimi, sitting there. He bid farewell to everyone, and left with his drink. Takahiro pulled out his phone from the front pocket of his apron.

**_To: Famous piece of beef_ **

**_> >(2:15) i’ll see u tmrw ;)))_ **

**_From: Famous piece of beef_ **

**_> >(2:15) no plz peacefully fuck off_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok wow, I didn't know writing would be that hard. Whew, anyway I hope you guys like it so far.
> 
> I hate when I can't imagine the apartment layout so here's [Hajime's Apartment](http://cdn.home-designing.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/cool-3-bedroom-3d-plans.jpeg)
> 
> Next time:  
> -Tooru moves in  
> -Matsuhana & Bokuaka meet  
> -Kiyoko should really let Hajime breathe


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the ever-living fuck just happened.” He breathed. Atsumu answered for him.
> 
> “Oikawa happened.”
> 
> Then it got worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read the last chapter on my phone, and..? Those paragraphs are hugeeee. So I'm trying to split them up better.  
> 6900+ words because I love u guys. (Also I couldn't find a good place to end)
> 
> [DaiSuga's apartment](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9d/3b/83/9d3b83f29748235a494bc50d7f642f2d.jpg)  
> [KuroKen's + Bokuto's Apartment](http://cdn.home-designing.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/small-three-bedroom-ideas.png)  
> The three don't live together, just have the same layout. I'm putting them in now, so the story will go smoother. Obviously the furniture is different, and some rooms are changed into other things, etc. That will all be cleared up in the future.

The one day Hajime had a break was spent doing errands. Laundry, groceries, you name it. Now at one in the afternoon he was cooking instant ramen, too tired to make anything fulfilling. Yes, he now has a stocked fridge, but why take the time when you could have ramen? He was going to take a nap, and do some planning before Makki decided to arrive. Of course, his plans were ruined when he heard a distant _‘Hey! Hey!’_ outside his apartment. 

In came Bokuto, without shoes, _because who needs shoes?_ Followed by a barefooted Kuroo. Not even socks, just his toes _._ Bokuto’s hair was down, none of that superglue gel in sight. It seemed like he just came back from the gym and took a shower. They came towards the kitchen, the former opening the pantry while the other leaned against the half wall. “Do you have those shrimp chips,” digging around the pantry. He threw a bag of mackerel ones to Kuroo who immediately started devouring them. “Wait, is that beef ramen?”

There are those big pleating eyes looking at Hajime like a sick puppy. Seriously what was he gonna do with these two. With a sigh he brought another pot to the stove. Bokuto passed him a packet of ramen. 

Kuroo still hasn’t said anything, which was shocking considering he never kept his mouth closed. He was faced away from Hajime, granting him a view of his back. He let out a deep breath, “I’m not mad at you.”

Bokuto looked towards Kuroo with a brow raised. Great, so he didn’t tell Bokuto either. Kuroo finally spoke, “I..Kinda, might’ve gotten him a roommate.” Bokuto’s eyes widened, with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Bro! Iwa doesn’t have to be lonely anymore!” He responded, slapping Kuroo’s back. They both let out hearty laughs. Hajime turned to the stove stirring his noodles with a small smile playing on his lips. Having a roommate didn’t sound as bad as he first thought.

Finishing the ramen he put them in two bowls handing one to Bokuto with a pair of chopsticks. “Thanks Iwa.” The duo moved towards the living room. Bokuto sitting at the table, and Kuroo sitting on the couch.

“Hey,” he called out to Kuroo, “Do you know when they’re coming?” The guest room was already cleaned and ready. 

“I think ‘Kaashi said today or tomorrow? I wasn’t paying attention because of grading.” He said as he flipped through movies and shows. Kuroo was a student teacher working towards his PhD. Chemistry was _his_ subject. He could explain everything, and anything. Hajime once had to sit through a one hour discussion of the chemical compounds in paint, and the light spectrum. It was actually interesting, he wasn’t on the constant verge to strangle him. That was probably because he was painting while listening. 

He trusted Kuroo and Bokuto even though they seemed like the most irresponsible people on the planet. They both knew who he was, and never teased him about revealing himself. They always gave their full support, never doubting him. It took a long time to trust them. Their constant nagging, trying to pick the locks, etcetera, irritated him. Becoming closer to them, and them always having his back, he knew his choice was worth it. 

Once Hajime finished his food he placed his bowl into the sink, and headed towards his room. “I’m going to take a nap. See you guys later.” He yawned. They waved him away already conversed in the show they were watching. Closing his doors he flipped the blinds and fell face first into the comforter. Not once did he regret spending the extra money for them. He could sleep on clouds. That was worth it. 

He woke up feeling slightly groggy. The doorbell rang. It rang again. And _again_. Only one person would do that. “I’m coming!” He shouted hoping Makki could hear him. The ringing stopped after the second time. He got out of bed ready for the disaster in his apartment. 

Only there wasn’t any. The chairs had been tucked in, the pillows lazily put back, and there was a bowl on the coffee table filled with sesame soba noodles. All the dishes were placed on the rack beside the sink. He really did have great friends.

He opened the door revealing Makki who was carrying a tray of coffee. “Finally, I didn’t feel like _peacefully fucking off_ after coming all this way.”

“You live ten minutes away.”

“Of walking through viscous winds, and flame breathing dragons.” Hajime rolled his eyes, and left the door open walking to the couch to eat. After Makki put his shoes away he joined Hajime, setting the tray on the table. “I got you a dark roast with extra espresso.” He stated, taking his own cup full of a light liquid. He sat sideways, legs hanging off the armchair.

“Why the extra shot?”

“You’ll need it.”

“ _Why?_ ” Before he could answer, Hajime’s phone dinged. A message from Kuroo popped up. The only thing he texted was _'4:30'_.

“Because of Kuroo’s text.” Makki took the remote and unpaused the show left from Kuroo. He didn't even glance at Hajime for confirmation. 4:30 _what?_ This felt like the _‘and_ ’ situation all over again. It was already a quarter past four. Is that when Bokuto and Kuroo were coming back? Was the new tenant arriving soon? Why was Makki here in the first place? They didn’t make plans, he came in with no explanation.

“Makki, why are you here?”

“To watch the drama unfold. Not the one on the tv.” Leaving Hajime even more confused. 

Deciding to ignore it, he started on eating his noodles while watching the tv. He took a sip of his coffee, and _yes_ it was strong. Too strong, even for him. Trusting Makki’s judgement, which he shouldn’t, he kept drinking it with his meal. 

It was 4:23, he was counting down the minutes, when he finished both coffee and soba. The combination left his tongue with a bitter aftertaste. He was feeling jittery. If not from the coffee then the time ticking. Probably both. 

He sat back down trying to divide his attention between the door, and the show. Makki spared a glance, “You look constipated.”

“No shit.” He didn’t realize what he said until he heard Makki snort, bursting into a breathy laugh right after. Hajime scowled at him, his lips threatening to break into a grin. 

Looking back he saw the time. _4:30._ Yet, nothing happened. Another minute passed and he began to worry. What if something went wrong? Five minutes later he was interrupted from his thoughts when Makki made a sound. “If he says he’s fashionably late I’m banning him from the café.”

The doorbell rang. Kuroo or Bokuto would just use their key to get in. Suga, and Daichi would text or call. So it must be his new roommate. “Toughen up, it’s just a roommate, not a huge gallery thing.” He was right, he could do this. He walked down the hallway checking his studio room was locked. Schooling his features into an easy smile he turned the handle and opened the door.

He didn’t know what he was expecting but it sure as hell wasn’t this. _Oikawa_ fucking _Tooru_ was standing in front of him. “Sorry I was running late. Clothes and all.” He was smirking, his face showing that he was fully amused. 

From behind he heard Makki, “That's it! You're banned from the café,” He came to stand beside Hajime. 

“You liar!” Oikawa said back. Makki looked satisfied, while the other looked betrayed. Hajime just stood there dumbfounded. 

He finally spoke, “You guys know each other?” They both looked at him not expecting him to start talking.

“Why yes,” Makki was the first to break the silence, “I have other friends you know.”

Another person came up behind Oikawa, “I apologize on his behalf. He’s your new roommate, Oikawa Tooru. I’m Akaashi Keiji, it’s nice to meet you.” It seemed that he stumbled upon an angel at his front door looking at Akaashi.

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” He opened the door wider letting them in. Oikawa instantly bickering with Makki. “The boxes?” was he expected to bring them in?

“Oh,” Oikawa turned around, “There’s two more people coming. They’ll be the ones moving them in.”

“This is your room,” Pointing to the guest room to the left. He figured showing the rooms would be easier than just standing there. “And there’s a bathroom connected to it.”

“Is there a bedroom behind the double doors?”

“Yes.” That was Hajime’s room. 

“I want that one.” He said matter-of-factly. Akaashi slapped the back of Oikawa’s head, sending Hajime an apologetic look. If this is what he had to deal with everyday he didn’t think he could make it.

“Don’t be rude.” Makki was watching them interact with a lazy grin, leaning against the studio doors. They opened the door and went in. Oikawa immediately flopped onto the bed, while Akaashi looked around. He didn’t notice two figures appearing until one of them spoke making him jump.

“Oikawa! Get ya lazy ass off the bed ‘n help me and Mattsun.” Was that Miya Atsumu? The pro volleyball player on the national team? Just what type of friends did Oikawa have? “Oh hey I’m Miya Atsumu. You can just call me Atsumu.” He held out his hand. Hajime shook it, still trying to wrap his head around the situation.

“But Tsumu-chan, the sheets are so _comfy._ ” Tightly wrapping himself in a blanket so no one could move him. That’s when the last person came in. 

“Hey I'm Matsukawa Issei. People just call me Mattsun.” Barely sparing a glance towards him before moving into the room picking Oikawa off, and setting him on the ground. The comforter pooled around his feet. He started pouting, and crossed his arms, stomping his feet. He acted like his favorite candy got taken away. 

“Makki, don't just stare.” Oikawa directed his pettiness towards him.

“I’m not staring _at_ you. I’m looking at the hot shot _next_ to you.” Makki tilted his head as if observing Mattsun. Oikawa scowled, offended. Mattsun just stared back. Long uncomfortable seconds went by before Atsumu spoke.

“The sexual tension in here is gonna make me gag. Stop eye fucking each other, Jesus.” Mattsun winked at Makki who slightly blushed in return, jaw dropping to the ground. Makki flustered? That was new. He lived off of pick-up lines, and drunk sarcasm. He stood there with a shocked expression before rushing to the conjoined bathroom locking himself in while everyone just stared after him.

“Sooo,” Oikawa broke the heavy silence that followed, “I’m going to get some boxes. Yeah, I’ll be right back.” He walked towards the front door, Akaashi following in tow leaving the other three alone. Now that half the people were out of sight Hajime had a moment to recollect himself.

Mattsun walked across the room towards the other door connecting to the bathroom and opened it. Sending a sly grin to Makki who was supposedly still in there. 

He heard something crash, and the door opened revealing a red-faced Makki trying to run out the door. 

Except he didn’t make it. 

Mattsun ran towards him and hugged him from behind, trapping him of any possible escape. Hooking his chin over his shoulder. Makki stood there stunned, every muscle in his body seeming to still. He spoke in Makki’s ear, whispering quietly that Hajime couldn’t hear. If it was even possible he turned redder. With a shaky hand he pulled out his phone handing it to Mattsun. He still kept his arms around his waist when putting his number in. At least that’s what Hajime thought he was doing. 

He gave the phone back, stepping beside him keeping an arm around his waist pulling him out the door.

“What the ever-living fuck just happened.” He breathed. Atsumu answered for him.

“Oikawa happened.” That part was obvious. He attracted attention like it was begging for him.

Akaashi came back carrying a few boxes, Oikawa with a bag, looking at the two with confused expressions. Akaashi uttered, “What shitty rom-com are we in.”

Miya started laughing followed by Oikawa. He was clutching his stomach leaving him wheezing. Akaashi walked back in, placing boxes against the bed. Oikawa did the same. After Atsumu recovered he helped them move more from the doorway.

Hajime walked to the kitchen placing a kettle on the stove. Bringing out cups, and tea leaves. “Oh Iwaizumi-san you don’t have to.” He heard Akaashi call out to him.

“It’s okay. It’s the least I can do after dealing with, whatever that was.” He searched for the biscuits he brought last week. He found one left in the packet. He had a suspicion of what happened. More specifically _who_ happened. 

Bringing the cups to the living room the group started gathering around. They all sat on the floor around the table ignoring the couch, and the armchair. No one said anything, only the sound of teacups being placed, and sipped from. It was a comfortable silence which was surprising considering Hajime just met these people.

 _Once again,_ it was broken by the one and only. “HEY! Hey! Hey! Im back!” He walked in, with shoes this time, taking them off and putting them in the closet. He went over to the kitchen opening the pantry, not noticing the other people gaping at him. He turned around and caught sight of them, instantly perking up, “Oh! I’m Bokuto Koutarou. It’s nice to meet everyo-” He paused. His eyes widened that Hajime thought they were going to fall out of their sockets.

He pulled out his phone dialing a number, eyes still locked on the group. Everyone was looking at him expecting him to continue. “Kuroo? Yeah, I think I’m having a sexuality crisis.” He whispered. Or at least tried to considering his loud voice. Atsumu snorted, and ducked his head. 

Oikawa gave him a charming smile, eyes glinting. “I have that effect on people.”

“Huh? Oh, I didn't see you there.” Atsumu’s body started shaking violently. Oikawa’s face betrayed him as he shot a glare at Akaashi. Who, for his credit, remained calm though the tip of his ears were red. Bokuto moved away from the kitchen heading towards the front door keeping his eyes trained on Akaashi. “Mhm, yeah, ok.” He said into the phone then ending the call he slipped out of view. He heard the door close and lock.

With a stoic expression Akaashi said, “He didn’t take his shoes,” Atsumu broke out cackling. Then with a hint of enthusiasm, “ _And did you see that ass?_ ”

Hajime choked on his tea. Banging his chest trying to get the drink out of his lungs. Atsumu was rolling on the floor, tea forgotten. Bokuto did go to the gym for a living. Being an athletic trainer and all.

For all he knew Bokuto never had a boyfriend. He wasn’t against it either. Stuck in limbo between straight and bi-sexual. He was pleasantly surprised to see Akaashi had made him think seriously about it for a moment.

Someone's phone started ringing on the table interrupting the moment. The name _‘Omi-Omi’_ flashed on the screen. Atsumu picked it up heading out to the balcony, saying he’ll be back. Akaashi was the first to finish his tea, then went to Oikawa’s room to start unpacking. Leaving him, and Hajime alone. 

“I should properly introduce myself, since the last two times were a fail.” He held out his hand giving him a sheepish smile, “Oikawa Tooru, architect major.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime, I’m an art major.” He took Oikawa’s hand in his. Yes, it was still as soft as he remembered. He was startled from the strong shake he received. His eyes boring into Hajime’s as if challenging him. He returned it with an equally, if not stronger, shake of his own. 

“I can see that.” Looking around the room, there were prints, and paintings hung up on the walls. He let go of his hand, got up and went to one of the Hiroshi Yoshida prints hung beside the tv. Fingers barely skimming the surface. Hajime’s gaze was stuck on his hands. The delicate way they moved, so different from the handshake. Handling the frame like it could break with a simple touch.

His eyes moved around the room until his attention was caught on a specific painting. He stood in front of it, examining. “Are you a fan?” ,referring to the painting.

“Uh, yeah.” That was _Hajime’s painting._ It’s one of his favorite landscape pieces. The dark mountains, with the eerie blue-grey sky, and blood-red moon all pulled together creating one of his most treasured pieces. He never put it in any shows.

Oikawa visibly stilled, turning towards him. His voice came out low, “This is an original.” Not a question, a statement. Hajime started to sweat. Oikawa squinted his eyes watching him with calculating interest. He’s never been stuck in this situation before. He can’t just say, ‘Oh yeah, I'm the hidden artist, nice to meet you.’

“I, uh, bought it. Or well commissioned, more or less. And-”

“Hey, we gotta go. 'S getting late, and Omi is getting worried.” Atsumu came back, heading towards Oikawa’s room telling Akaashi the same thing. Hajime owes him for the distraction. Akaashi came back out wiping the back of his hand against his brow. 

“I got all your clothes sorted out, and hanged. The paintings are leaned against the back wall. You should really sell some of those. You’d earn a lot for them.”

“How dare you Aka-chan! Those are precious to me. And thank you.” Akaashi went to pull him into a hug, Oikawa returning it. They were whispering to each other, but it was too quiet to understand. 

“Hey Iwaizumi?” Atsumu pulled his attention away. “Thanks for agreeing to this. And keep an eye on him will ya? He studies a lot, and gets carried away. Sometimes he forgets he’s a human that needs food.”

Hajime wasn’t sure what to think of that. Who doesn’t remember basic human needs? “Yeah, No problem. And you can just call me Iwa. I know Iwaizumi is a lot.” He gave him a soft smile heading towards Akaashi who was waiting with Oikawa. Hajime followed him to the door. Oikawa was saying his good-bye’s to Atsumu when Akaashi pulled Hajime aside. He handed him a slip of paper with numbers written on it.

“Here’s my number if you need to text me. Tooru.. well I guess Miya-san already told you. I’ll be coming by often to check on him.”

“I’m sure he can take care of himself.” He didn’t see what the big deal was. It was like he was put on babysitting duty. Akaashi gave him a soft, but sad smile. Eye’s revealing nothing.

"See ya around Iwa!." Atsumu called before walking out the door.

“Have a good night Iwaizumi-san.” He turned around following Atsumu, giving one them one last wave.

“Tell Omi-chan I said Hi!” Was the last thing Oikawa said before closing the door. “Well _Iwa-chan_ , what’s for dinner?”

Hajime must’ve looked shocked because Oikawa let out a light laugh. “You should see your face _Iwa-chan._ ” There it was again. “Iwaizumi-san is too formal, and Iwaizumi is a mouthful to say. Tsumu-chan called you ‘Iwa’ so I figured a nickname would be cute.”

“You don’t have to add the -chan.” He added gruffly. It made him feel like a little kid being made fun of. Even though that wasn’t Oikawa’s goal. He hummed in acknowledgement.

“You never answered my question.” Using his time to look around the apartment. Trying to become familiar with it. There were still two rooms he didn’t look into. The double doored one because it was Hajime’s, and his studio. “Why is this room locked?” Questioning him when the handle wouldn’t give.

“Ah, um,” How was he supposed to say this, “It’s a private space.” Not sparing any more information he went to the coffee table picking up the cups. He wanted to avoid talking about his studio. 

Oikawa already seemed interested in _his_ work specifically. From the way he looked at the piece with immediate interest, then proceeding to interrogate Hajime was a clear sign. He didn’t want a re-run of his time spent in the college dorms.

“Actually, I want you to meet a few people.” Steering the conversation away. If there was one way to greet someone to their new home, it was through Daichi, and Suga’s food.

* * *

He woke up smushed into a cloud. He was surrounded by cloud-like blankets, and sheets. This had to be too good to be true. When he cracked his eyes open, sunlight was streaming through the window, the rays just barely up to his shins. Yeah, this wasn’t a dream. He could go back to sleep. Maybe getting another thirty minutes before his brain decided to turn on again. 

Instead he got up, automatically reaching for a hoodie on the foot of his bed. The room was chilly, and Tooru hated the cold. Skin already covered in goosebumps, he slipped through the jacket pulling the hood over his head. He grabbed a pair of sweats from the bag beside the nightstand.

He still had yet to unpack. That was his plan for today. Heading to the bathroom he thought back to last night. 

He was invited over to Daichi, and Suga’s place to have dinner. The food was great by the way. Also meeting up with a few of the other tenants. 

Meeting Kuroo had been interesting. From the terrible (but still somehow handsome) bed hair, to the constant mischief in his eyes. He never seemed to lose the bad boy aura around him. Expect when it came to Kenma.

He was surprised to hear that they were together. The two were complete opposites. If Kuroo liked something, Kenma didn’t. Other than cats. Those were an exception. They had a grey spotted tabby named Atlas. Kenma’s blunt, and nonchalant behavior added to his demeanor. The signs were subtle, but so very there. The two weren’t a showy couple, but it was obvious with the way they interacted, the small touches, and soft smiles.

Kenma gave the impression that he didn’t like much PDA. But he sat in Kuroo’s lap like it was the only acceptable place to sit. He learned that Kenma was a video game composer. He always had his phone with him. Never once through the night did Tooru see it leave his hand.

Bokuto was _loud._ His voice always resonated around the room. Bringing attention to himself almost instantly. He was a little embarrassed from the incident earlier that day, but Tooru still told him about Akaashi. He absorbed all the information with his curiosity showing through. The attention he gave Tooru made him pause. He was used to it, but when Bokuto looked at him so intensely waiting for him to continue it made him cautious about telling him more. His attention was stolen when Daichi set food on the table. 

The atmosphere was so alive, yet still felt like _home_ . From the company to the food. He wished Akaashi, and Atsumu stayed a little longer. That would’ve made his night better. But he took advantage of what he had. Quickly becoming acquainted with everyone. At first, he was wary being around so many different personalities, but he saw that everyone fit together like puzzle pieces. No one seemed to have bad intentions. They seemed like a _family_. And he thought what it would be like being a part of them. 

Padding towards the kitchen he saw Iwaizumi sitting on the counter beside the dishrack. He was scrolling through his phone with a cup of coffee in hand. “Good morning Iwa-chan,” he greeted.

"G’morning,” His voice was a little gruff, still sounding sleepy. _Cute.._ He was wearing a short sleeve which almost made Tooru weak because those biceps were _drool-worthy_. He turned his head before he could be caught staring. “I don’t know what you liked so I didn’t make anything, but-” gesturing to the coffee machine, “-There’s still some coffee left.” As an afterthought he added, “If you like coffee.”

“Thanks Iwa-chan.” Tooru was satisfied with the reaction he got from yesterday when coming up with the nickname. What could he say? ‘-chan’ made everything better. Now he wasn’t getting much of anything from the man. _And was that an espresso machine?_ Maybe he _was_ in a dream. If so, he never wanted to wake up. “I don’t really eat in the mornings anyway.”

The machine was in the corner of the kitchen beside the microwave. He began filling it with coffee grounds. He opened cabinets looking for cups until Iwaizumi pointed out where they were located. Filling it with water from the fridge he set it under the spout, pressing a few buttons then hopped on the counter beside the stove, waiting, fingers tapping the cool surface.

Iwaizumi put his phone down, holding his mug with both hands looking at Tooru, “I have a few classes today, so you’ll be alone. You can kick Kuroo or Bokuto out if they barge in, the fridge is stocked, and here's-” He tossed a key which Tooru easily caught, “-that. I won’t be back till around 6 so please don’t die until then.”

Tooru snorted, “I can take care of myself Iwa-chan.” 

He felt like a child being told to not open the cookie jar. He didn’t need ‘babying’ around. He was 23 for god's sake. He could drink (though he couldn’t hold his liquor), drive cars (he mainly took the train), and travel alone (but he didn’t like to. It got lonely.) Being told to not open the door because _stranger danger_ was a rule he ignored since he was 12. 

“I know.” then he muttered, “That’s what I told them.” Tooru almost missed it from how softly he spoke. _Them,_ he figured were probably Akaashi and Atsumu. They worried too much. He just had bad study habits which lead to other bad things. Which reminded him of the moments before they left.

_Akaashi pulled Tooru into a hug which he greatly accepted by wrapping his arms around his back. Normally it was Tooru hugging him first. “Aka-chan,” He said calmly, not wanting to make him worry more. “I’ll be fine.” He squeezed back tighter in response._

_“I put melatonin pills in the bag with your brush because_ someone _forgot to take them.” He lightly pinched Tooru’s side, making him whine. “I’ll be checking up on you, so don’t you dare try and ignore my calls or else I’m bringing Kageyama-kun with me.” Ugh, just thinking of that prodigy freak made him cringe. Then more softly, “And take care of yourself.” He felt a hand slip into the back pocket of his jeans._

 _“Aka-chan, are you trying to grope my ass? Because you are failing miserably.” He pulled back enough to look into those dark turquoise eyes. Akaashi let out a small breathy laugh, shaking his head. He reached an arm back and pulled out a pen. The pen he asked for_ three days ago _. He spinned it between his fingers. The feeling of smooth plastic instantly calmed him._

_“Hey Keiji?” Akaashi was still looking at him. As sincerely as humanly possible he whispered, “Thank you."_

_He wanted to say thank you for everything Akaashi did for him. Letting him stay over, trying and succeeding to understand him, pulling him away when he almost burned himself out during those really intense study sessions, and just being there for him. He hoped those 2 simple words could express that._

_Akaashi leaned in, kissing his jaw, a sign that he understood what Tooru meant. They pulled away a few seconds later, and went to the door waiting for Atsumu and Iwaizumi. He pocketed the pen promising himself that he wouldn’t lose it this time._

* * *

He was alone.

In an apartment that he’d been in for a little under 24 hours. He didn’t have any classes, or plans for that matter. What was he supposed to do? 

Tooru could think of hundreds of things that he _could_ but _didn’t_ want to do. There was one, though. Study. He didn’t have homework, and he finished all the recent projects. So there was nothing to study, except reviewing past units. That’s boring. 

Maybe staring at the ceiling could be his new pass time.

Maybe he should adopt a cat. Kenma and Kuroo have one, so why not Iwaizumi? As if reading his thoughts he heard the door open, and a blond head poked around the corner Atlas following right on his heel. Tooru visibly relaxed. “Hey Kenma.”

“Tooru.” Nodding his head in acknowledgment. He also learned that Kenma hated formality, deciding to call people by their given name. 

The cat stopped at the edge of the kitchen deciding to lay there. She stared at Tooru almost contemplating whether he was worthy of her time. With a lazy yawn she crawled over and laid back down at the edge of the couch, still on the ground. Tooru laying right above her, turned to his side, using his arm to reach down and pet her. Earning a soft purr.

Kenma walked over with a cup ramen in hand. Tooru pulled his legs up to his chest to make room for Kenma. Atlas jumped onto the couch settling into Kenma’s lap. He took the remote, changing the screen to a game. He put the volume up, and sat back pulling his phone out of his hoodie.

Tooru confused as ever, just grunted. He earned a side eye from Kenma who just kept scrolling, and tapping. 

He looked back to the screen seeing that it was a dystopian themed game from the cover. Shades of purple, blue, and greens moving around the screen. The name appeared revealing, _Sea Hunt,_ in bold fancy writing. The music slowly started changing into a more upbeat rhythm. The beat felt challenging, the ‘ _play’_ button was pulsing, drawing him to ask, “Can I play?”

He didn’t notice Kenma now looking at him. He was too mesmerized in the music, and art. “It’s only the pre-release, so it’s not very playable right now. This is just an idea the team came up with.” Looking at Tooru and back to the screen. He caught his eye, and he seemed _nervous?_ He was fiddling with his fingers around his phone, and his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“I’d buy this in a heartbeat. If this is just an idea then I can’t imagine how good it would be when fully developed.” Kenma let his lip go, and stared at his phone. He thought he saw pink dusting Kenma’s cheeks, but he couldn’t properly tell because of the curtain of hair covering his face.

He let out a small, “Thanks.” before picking Atlas up, setting her at his feet. Moving towards the kitchen once again with a, barely-there, bounce to his step. Tooru smiled faintly. It seemed that Kenma got flustered when complimented. He just kept learning more about the tiny blond.

“Atlas,” Kenma was slipping his sneakers on, cocking his head towards the door. The cat let out a soft _mreow_ in response, without looking in his direction. A small smile slipped on his face. Facing Tooru, “She’ll scratch the door when she wants to leave, she can get back on her own.”

Tooru let out a sound similar to Atlas’s response. Eye’s drooping, he watched Kenma nod his head in goodbye, and then leave. Gods, he needed sleep. He barely surpassed 20 hours this week. 

There was a grey throw blanket at the end of the couch. He stretched a leg out, _bless his long legs,_ and dragged the fluffy material over to himself. Pulling it up to his chin he let out a big yawn, getting comfortable. A pillow between his legs, and Atlas at his chest, he slept.

* * *

Iwa-chan was walking to Makki’s- _Jesus,_ when did he start referring to himself as that shitty nickname. Maybe he should ask Asahi for an exorcism. That man was known to do wonders. 

_Anyway,_ Hajime was walking to Makki’s café to get that ridiculously strong coffee he brought over yesterday. Makki was some sort of coffee _god._ Having caffeine at 5 pm was definitely not a good choice. Who needs sleep anyway? 

He hoped his apartment wasn’t already a mess knowing Oikawa was a drama magnet, and assignments somehow started stacking up. What could make his day worse? 

His phone rang. _That._ Taking it out of his pocket he checked the caller ID. _Kiyoko._ He answered, bringing the device to his ear. “Hey Kiyoko.”

“Iwaizumi-san.” She replied. After 3 years she still wouldn’t drop the honorifics. The dedication, and stubbornness, she had. “You have a new show coming up soon, about 2 months from now, and I wanted to confirm that you have been readying yourself.” 

Hajime’s already two-thirds done with the pieces he was going to present. He took his shows, and galleries seriously.

“Yeah, most of it’s already done. Tell Irihata-san that I’ll be finishing earlier, so he can get the shippers ready. I’ll text you when I’m done with everything, and the times.” He needed a distraction for Oikawa. He couldn’t see the people coming in and out of his apartment carrying hundred dollar paintings. Kiyoko agreed with him, but before he was about to hang up she sucked in a deep breath audible through the speaker.

“Kiyoko?”

“You know Ushijima Wakatoshi, correct?” He made a sound of approval, “He commissioned a piece to be done in 5 months, a week prior to your next gallery.” _Ehh?!_ “I wanted to know if you're up for it. I understand the challenges, but you will be paid _grossly_ for it. I guess there’s a good reason for that.” She mumbled the last sentence.

“A good reason?” He squeaked out. Damn he’d be busy this winter. 

“Ah well, he’s paying you a hefty amount due to the size of the painting.” Hajime stopped walking, and closed his eyes praying that it wasn’t as bad as he thought. 

Looks like his prayers didn’t work, “167 by 213. 213 length wise. More information will be sent within 18 hours containing inspiration, and the general idea.”

“I- How much am I getting paid?”

“Few hundred thousand. He added more since he knew of the gallery, and the time constraints.” she sighed, “Listen, I understand if you don’t want this commission. Ushijima-san has no problem extending the time, but he really wants this piece. He’ll do-”

“Okay.” Hajime already agreed in his mind after hearing the commissioner’s name. Ushijima Wakatoshi, 27, owner of Eagle Inc., and has _way_ more money than any person should.

He’s also favored since he’s helped Hajime spread his name. Always coming to each of his shows, and galleries, even if he doesn’t buy anything. Now, Ushijima doesn’t actually _know_ Hajime, but supports him non the less.

“ _Thank you._ ” She sounded relieved. Not that he could blame her. Losing Ushijima could mean losing business. Saying goodbye he started walking again.

So yeah, his day just got a _lot worse._ Turning the corner the café came into view. Knowing Makki, he turned towards his apartment, walking away. Not wanting to endure anymore for the day. He had a coffee and espresso machine back home. He’d just use those. Unless it was broken. Hajime wouldn’t be surprised if it was. 

Approaching the building he didn’t notice Bokuto walking beside him until, “ _Boo,_ ” 

He swore he didn’t let out a shriek, or almost punch Bokuto in the face. The damn owl was doubling over. Crouched down hiding his face in his arm, his whole body shaking. Grocery bags on either side of him. “Kuroo’s never gonna let you live this down.” He said between laughs, trying to contain his composure.

The man mentioned decided to somehow appear in thin air. Right beside Hajime’s ear he whispered, “What am I never gonna let you live down?” He jumped to the side coming face to face with Kuroo. 

“Fucking hell dude.” Kuroo just smirked, “Where did you come from?”

“I heard a scream, thought a _girl_ was getting mugged, turned the corner and saw you and Bo.” Bokuto somehow got himself together, with a smile that could rival Hinata’s, and pat Hajime on the back.

“I’m sorry, but I just had to take the chance.” He knew Bokuto never meant bad, so he let it slide saying it’s okay. A head popped out over them shouting down at the trio.

“Are you guys okay down there?” A silver haired man was calling to them.

“Yeah!” Bokuto called back. “Thanks Suga!” Before Suga went back in, Kuroo yelled.

“Is Daichi still on for next week?!” Suga turned away from the window, but not moving away. Most likely talking to Daichi. His head came back out the window, he was nodding his head with a thumbs up, then left. Kuroo turned back to them, “What about you guys?”

“I’d never miss it.” said Bokuto, Hajime giving a similar response. Every Sunday the four of them went to the gym together. They were gym buddies, or more like competitors. Their stubbornness was the main reason they were so fit. Never letting the other win until Bokuto stopped them, calling a tie.

Kuroo and Bokuto left Hajime in the elevator since they lived on the floor below. When he got to the door he heard music playing. Loud enough to hear through the walls. Bracing himself he turned the key, “I’m back.”

Hajime didn’t get a response. Suspicious, he peeked around the corner. The tv was playing a sort of upbeat rhythm with a gaming screen. Kenma must’ve come over, he remembered him stopping by to present a similar idea last week. 

What surprised him most was Oikawa laying on the couch with Atlas. It looked like he was sleeping from the slow rise and fall of his body, and the blanket cocooning him. 

The apartment was undisturbed, only a few containers in the sink. No doubt the leftovers from last night. Hajime put his shoes away dropping his bag in the hallway before turning the tv off. Careful to not wake Oikawa. _He looks… peaceful._

Yesterday, Oikawa was full of energy, constantly engaged in conversation. It must’ve taken a toll on him. 

Hajime went to his room to change into more comfortable clothes. When he came back, Atlas was awake, stretching on the floor. She spotted Hajime, letting out a small mewl. Quietly he whispered, “Do you want to go back home?”

Atlas trotted over to the door as an answer. Quickly, stepping lightly he made his way over. Unlocking the door to let the cat slip through.

Bringing his bag to the table he took out notebooks, and his laptop. Deciding to get started on the overload of assignments. About an hour later his stomach grumbled, signaling it was time to make dinner.

He left his stuff at the table, and went over to the kitchen. What should he make? He had no idea what Oikawa liked to eat. Or if he even ate dinner. He figured something simple would be best, since he was still going to study. Kimchi fried rice then.

Gathering the ingredients he started chopping the kimchi, and heating up oil in a pan. Leftover rice already being heated up. He was already pan-frying the ingredients together, when he heard mumbling coming from the couch.

He looked over the ledge, Oikawa was halfway up, an arm supporting his upper body while the other hand was rubbing his eye. Hair tousled, and a slight pout on his lips. He looked… well, _kind of adorable_. 

His voice was laced with sleep, low, and soft-spoken that Hajime had to lean over to hear him better. “Aka-chan,” he mumbled, “whatever you're making I want chili oil, and an egg with it. The one with the runny yolk.”

“Wrong ‘chan’,” He said back, taking an egg out of the fridge. “And I don’t have chili oil.” Oikawa’s lips pull down into a full pout. Eye’s barely opening, squinting at Hajime. The blanket now wrapped around his shoulders in a sitting position with his legs crossed.

“Iwa-chan?” Hajime hummed. “Do you have sesame oil?” He checked the cabinet pulling the said item out. He placed it on the half wall so Oikawa could see it. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “One spoon please.” 

He moved back to the stove, oil in hand. He heard Oikawa shuffling across the room, the bathroom door clicking closed. 

He divided the fried rice between two bowls, placing a fried egg on one of them. He brought them to the table as Oikawa came out. Hajime’s books were still scattered around, he pushed them aside, knowing he was going to keep studying.

“Thank you for the meal.” They said in unison. They ate quietly, Oikawa making comments about the food, Hajime giving glimpses of his day. When they both finished, Oikawa got up taking Hajime’s bowl saying that he’d do the dishes since ‘Iwa-chan’ cooked.

Hajime went back to studying, while Oikawa washed. When the latter was done he excused himself to his room with a simple, “Good night, Iwa-chan.” He doubted that Oikawa was going to bed this early considering he just woke up from a nap.

After a few hours he stopped, finished for the day. Stretching his arm over his head. He packed his stuff, and headed towards his room to sleep.

* * *

He awoke at 2 am, thirsty, realizing he forgot to drink water after dinner. He went to the kitchen grabbing a drink. He heard a faint rustle coming from Oikawa’s door. He didn’t question it. _He must move around in his sleep._

The thought didn’t sit well, but he chose to ignore it, sleep getting the best of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through a shit load of editing since most of this was written while I was half asleep. How tired can you be without actually wanting to sleep? Whatever the answer, that's currently me.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos!! ❤
> 
> Next Sunday (hopefully):  
> -Tooru should really take a break  
> -Paint is everywhere  
> -Kuroo saves lives with take-out (Daichi disapproves)


	3. Daffodil Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today I present a lil bit of Tooru's anxiety, Kuroo being best boy, and domestic feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is gonna be updated bi-monthly (sundays) !! Planning, writing, and editing with school as my main priority makes my life a living hell. It's worth it tho :D Mental health decided to go brrrrrr and so I'm slowly burning out. Weekly updates will start once I get my shit together. which will most likely never happen but who knows, I might surprise myself every once in a while.
> 
> _Also, to that one hq gc on insta (Eye Throwing Cult 2) , you have given me a reason to start smiling a bit :'D_

The rest of the week went by without any difficulty. 

The walk to college was peaceful. Since both of them had a class with similar times they decided to go together. Iwaizumi’s class was earlier, but Tooru went with him knowing he’d be late if he left any later. 

“Hey Iwa-chan?” Iwaizumi turned his head towards him. “What class are you going to?”

Iwaizumi pursed his lip, and scowled. “Sculpture classes. Dealing with clay, and stuff like that.” 

“Why don’t you like it?” Telling from his down-turned expression. 

“Just.. I guess the feel of clay on my hands, and trying to mold it doesn’t work for me. Drawing, and painting are more my style.” 

“Then why are you taking Sculpture, you could always drop out,” It made sense. Why take a class if you don’t like it? It didn’t seem necessary for Iwaizumi’s major anyway.

“My age-” He hesitated, “One of my art teachers recommended it. To improve, and have more variety I guess.” The pause caught Tooru off guard. What was Iwaizumi hiding from him? The locked room already seemed suspicious. Iwaizumi cleared his throat repeating what Tooru said, “What about you? What classes does a future architect need in the Music and Arts department?”

_ Future architect.  _ That was his goal, but having an architectural degree didn’t necessarily mean you wanted to become one. But it was nice that Iwaizumi was thinking highly of him. As he should. “You flatter me Iwa-chan,” he teased, Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, lips slightly turned down. “Maybe I want to be a construction worker, or a real estate manager.”

“It was just an assumption.” His voice was tight, clearly annoyed. 

“Hmm, to answer your question though, I have 3D arts. We have to take a design class for 2 semesters to graduate. It’s one of my favorite classes.” Iwaizumi grimaced, not even attempting to hide it.

They walked until they arrived at the glass door. Tooru held out his hand, “Give me your phone.”

“Why?” Iwaizumi’s hand was covering his front pocket, no doubt where his phone was.

“Silly, I need to put my number in.” Reluctantly he pulled his phone out, handing it to Tooru. Him doing the same. He saved his number under  _ Oikawa~ _ _ ♡ _ _.  _ Giving the phone back. Iwaizumi gave him an unamused stare, pocketing his phone. Tooru waved to him, while opening the door, “I’ll see you around Iwa-chan!”

“Please don’t spam me with texts.”

“No promises~” Parting ways, Tooru headed towards his classroom, knowing a few fans were going to be waiting there. He hoped there weren't many. Yes, Tooru enjoyed being the center of attention. Being praised, and complimented. But constantly having to go through the same motions, the same sweet-talk, was well… annoying. 

Nonetheless, he still greeted everyone with a smile. He never failed to impress. Getting a few trinkets here and there, until he was finally in class. Just barely making it on time. 

Today they were just going through procedures, and taking notes. Going over assignments, and learning about upcoming projects. Tooru was barely paying attention to the professor. Honestly, if you’re not going to let him build then why listen. He already knew most of this stuff anyways. 

That brought his mind back to Iwaizumi. Specifically the sketchbook. He pulled it out of his bag. The black cover still spotless, Tooru made sure of that. 

He placed it between his desk and himself hiding it from peering eyes. One thing that caught his eye was the absence of a signature. Just random dates scattered throughout drawings. They weren’t in order either.  _ How odd.  _

The drawings were fairly realistic, yet none of them were fully finished. Some looked almost done, a few parts left alone, or messy lines still somehow creating an image. 

If this was how Iwaizumi drew then what would his paintings look like? His ideas were creepily similar to another artist. Yet, Tooru couldn’t pinpoint who it was. The name was on the tip of his tongue. Flipping through the pages he stopped at the last one. 

It was a drawing of an eye and nose. He thought the drawing might actually blink if he stared at it long enough. It was  _ very much  _ finished in his opinion. The detailing in the iris, and the curve of the brow seemed identical to... _ himself?  _ Holy shit, was this a drawing of his eye? And nose?! 

Wait, wait, wait, he was getting too ahead of himself. That’s crazy. There’s no way Iwaizumi would draw him. Right? Before looking in too deep, he decided to put the drawings away, secured in his bag. 

Though that did nothing for his mind. Tooru convinced himself that it must’ve just been a random sketch. Anyone could have the same eye, and eyebrow shape as him. Yes, that’s it. 

He needed a distraction. Oh, he could just text Iwaizumi. Yeah, annoying him sounds nice.

He pulled his phone out scrolling through his contacts. Tapping  _ Iwaizumi.  _ What a boring name. Tooru changed it to  _ Iwa-chan~.  _ Much better.

**_To: Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:37) Iwa-chan!! This is your number right?_ **

**_> >(12:37) Plz tell me you didn’t give me a fake one (๑◕︵◕๑)_ **

It took him 2 whole minutes to respond. Seriously, how does one not pay attention to Tooru?

**_From: Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:39) Aren’t you in class rn_ **

**_To: Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:40) But I’m boredddddd. We’re not doing anything interesting_ **

**_> >(12:40) So i’ve come to u to cure my boredom_ **

His lips set into a small pout upon the response.

**_From: Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:40) And im busy _ **

**_> >(12:41) gtg ttyl_ **

The audacity this man had to ignore him. Unacceptable.

**_To:Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:41) Iwa-channnnnnnnn_ **

**_> >(12:41) when does your class end?_ **

**_> >(12:41) Lets go out for ice cream_ **

**_> >(12:41) plzzzzz ｡･ﾟﾟ･(>д<)･ﾟﾟ･｡_ **

**_> >(12:42) I’ll pay_ **

**_> >(12:42) If you don't respond within 30 sec. ill text the whole Let It Go lyrics word by word_ **

Hey, drastic times call for drastic measures. And he really wanted ice cream.

**_> >(12:43) The_ **

**_> >(12:43) snow_ **

**_From: Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:43) OK._ **

**_> >(12:43) I’ll see you at the doors by 2_ **

**_To: Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:43) yayyyyy Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ_ **

**_From: Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:44) You really are a shitty guy_ **

Tooru almost visibly gasped. Him? A  _ shitty  _ person? He gaped at his phone, luckily no one was paying attention to him.

**_To: Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:44) AM NOT. I am the most perfect human being to ever live_ **

**_From: Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:44) Yeah, and I’m from Mars_ **

**_> >(12:45) Ok I seriously gtg. I’ll see you later Shittykawa_ **

**_To: Iwa-chan~_ **

**_> >(12:45) Iwa-chan mean (○･｀Д´･○)_ **

He scowled at his phone, hoping Iwaizumi could sense his anger. Iwaizumi could be from Mars for all he cared. He didn’t know of one person better than him. (That was a lie, his mom is everything he isn’t, and more.) 

He was looking forward to getting ice cream. Yes he could’ve gone alone, but company was always better.

* * *

Hajime chuckled from the message Oikawa sent him before putting his phone down on the table. He was tying his smock, ready to continue his sculpture. Well, more like pottery.

He was creating a mug as a small housewarming gift for Oikawa. He remembered giving one to Bokuto when he was new. He still kept it safe, and Hajime always saw it filled with some sort of drink whenever he was over. 

The mug was already bisque and glazed. This mug was different from his normal work. Not because it’s clay, but the style. He was trying something relatively new.

They called it  _ kintsugi.  _ Shimada-sensei told the class about it during a lesson. Only two sentences, but it stuck to Hajime like glue. He looked it up when he got home, finding the art beautiful. It pulled to him. He only tried it a few times. The first time being a complete fail. 

He practiced with cheap plates, and cups until he was confident enough to accept a broken plate from Kuroo. 

Bringing the pick to the surface, he first centered it on the handle. Slowly using the hammer to crack it. The first indent was small. Using slightly more strength he brought the hammer down again. 

This time the handle split. A small triangle fell off the broken handle. He cracked another diagonal piece above. Gently placing them in a bag and sealing it. 

He moved on to the mug itself. Laying it down on it’s side. He was already in position bringing the hammer down when a voice distracted him, causing the hammer to hit at an angle.

“Iwa-kun. How are you-” Shimada-sensei’s eyes grew wide looking at the broken pieces of clay. “-was that intentional?” Shocked gaze returning to Hajime. 

Looking at the shattered mug the fragments disassembled, it broke better than he intended. Meeting Shimada’s gaze, Hajime gave him a sheepish smile, “Yeah actually. Not the angle I just hit, but the idea, yes.” Sensei’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes squinting. “Kintsugi. I’ve been practicing it for a bit.”

Shimada’s mouth fell into an ‘o’ finally realizing. An easy smile grew on his face. “Do you need any more lacquer?”

“No, I’ve got everything down. But, thank you.” Shimada gave a nod excusing himself.

If Hajime was quick he’d be able to finish the mug today. He poured some gold powder into the bottom of a container, mixing it with epoxy resin. Carefully using a brush to paint the jagged edges, he gingerly placed the pieces back together. Gold shining in between the shards, contrasting with the black.

He just finished the handle before Shimada-sensei called time. Students cautiously put their work away, then slowly started gaining speed after they finished. The smell of soap filled the room. Airing out the scent of glaze, and clay. 

Hajime swiftly cleaned up his space, and gathered his things. Stopping at the door he turned around to wave at Shimada, who returned it with a smile. 

He checked his phone,  _ 1:56,  _ knowing he’d get an earful if he was late, Hajime quickened his pace. 

He saw Oikawa leaning against a wall beside the door. A few people surrounding him. He spotted Hajime before he could come over. 

Giving the group a big smile he dismissed them.  _ Dismissed.  _ Like a king ordering his servants. They scattered away, heading in different directions, not sparing a glance back.

His attention now pointed at Hajime, “Iwa-chan! I thought you were going to ditch me.” His smile softened.

“You complain too much,” He responded. He pushed Oikawa’s shoulder towards the door, “Let’s go.” 

He broke away without complaint. Coming to step beside Hajime.

“How was Iwa-chan’s day?” He asked. Hajime told him about his class. About Shimada-sensei, the projects he was working on, leaving the mug out, and some pieces he saw other students creating. Oikawa in return, told him about his.

Hajime led them to the parlor close to Suga’s bakery.  _ Dateko.  _ They entered being welcomed by a  _ very tall  _ worker, with white short cropped hair. At the cashier another worker greeted them. Service smile in place, “Hi, how may I help you today.”

Hajime ordered a vanilla cone, Oikawa calling him boring. With a mischievous smirk he faced the brown haired man. 

“I’ll have Cookies and Cream with Vanilla Cake Batter in a chocolate dipped cone,” He paused, waiting for the worker,  _ Futakuchi _ , from the nametag, to input his order. Futakuchi opened his mouth, but Oikawa stopped him, “Topped with caramel, fudge, Reese’s, M&M’s, KitKats, mini marshmallows, and sprinkles. Please.” His tone was as sweet as his order.

With a strained smile, Futakuchi tapped away, saying that their order will be up shortly. Oikawa paid, handing his card with a smug grin.

They went over to a booth sitting cross from each other. “Please don’t use your sugar-rush to pester me.”

“Don’t worry Iwa-chan, I’ll be too busy studying to bother you.” The smugness clearly still showing through. 

In the past week Hajime learned that Oikawa studies a lot. His bedroom door was always slightly ajar, and he could hear him typing or writing. He couldn’t  _ see  _ Oikawa because the desk was in the far corner, but he always heard him. 

At night when Hajime stayed up a little later to get some things finished, Oikawa was still studying. He didn’t pay much attention to it. Considering professors gave no mercy. He always seemed energized the next day. Nothing to worry about. (Right?)

* * *

After dinner Oikawa went to his room saying goodnight. Hajime was washing the dishes. It was an unspoken routine they created. If one of them made dinner the other would wash the dishes. 

He decided to take a nap earlier since he planned to stay up later than normal. He finished all but  _ one _ of his paintings for the show. The last painting always took the longest because of his dear friend,  _ procrastination.  _ Hajime had a habit of saving the hardest for last, but also because he wanted to hold it off as much as possible. It’s not that he didn’t want to do it.. He just didn’t want to put himself through the long hours. 

He dried his hands, and headed to his studio. Oikawa’s door was firmly shut, a faint glow through the cracks. Probably studying again. 

The smell of acrylic paint, thinner, and canvas immediately filled his senses upon entering the room. Seriously if he didn’t need food, or sleep Hajime would just live in this very room.

He flipped a switch turning on the studio lights. Picking the smock hanging beside the door. He locked the door behind him, and set to his desk. Opening his laptop he checked through multiple images of the commission piece. The huge canvas was leaning beside his desk.

Hajime would have to use oil paints. The thought made him frown. It required so much more work than acrylic. He only used them when he absolutely had to. This was one of the cases. Not that he really had room for complaining. 

He opened his closet doors gathering a few materials for the underpainting. He mixed together a glob of navy blue on his glass palette. Using paint thinner to dilute the color into something more transparent. He picked up a large brush and got to work.

The clock just barely hit 12:30 a.m. by the time he finished the underpainting.  _ Only  _ the underpainting, and his mind was already fogging up.

Coffee, Hajime needed coffee. 

With quiet steps he went out to the kitchen. It wasn’t empty. A figure was in front of the coffee machine. A light grey hoodie, and constellation bottoms could be seen from where Hajime was standing. “Oikawa?” He called out.

The man in question let out a squeak, flinching. He turned around to face Hajime, cup in hand. A pair of glasses perched on his nose. “Iwa-chan, I didn’t expect to see you up this late.” Voice small, and taut. 

“I’ve been working,” He got a mug from the cupboard placing it under the machine. “What have you been doing.”

Oikawa rapidly blinked, fingers tightening on his cup. “Studying,” He was looking everywhere besides Hajime. “I have a test in the afternoon, so I thought I’d cram a bit.”

It was a very obvious lie. Hajime knew it, and Oikawa did too. Was this what Akaashi was talking about? Oikawa was slowly moving back to his room, “Yeah okay, just make sure to get some sleep soon.” 

He didn’t like the heavy weight that settled in his stomach as he grabbed his mug stepping towards the studio. Oikawa remained in front of his door, one hand on the knob, faced away. “Hey Iwa-chan,” He said softly, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.” Hajime said in the same tone.

“You never told me what you do,” Oikawa’s head slightly tilted back. Still not enough for Hajime to catch his eye. “And I feel like it has something to do with that room.”

_ Ah,  _ this was a subject he’d been avoiding all week. The words hung between them. Hajime would always change the subject if the topic came up. He could avoid it, say goodnight, and leave. But skimming the truth wouldn’t hurt. 

After a few moments of silence Oikawa whispered softer than before, “Goodnight Iwa-chan.” A breath of air, barely noticeable without the silence. 

He opened his door, stepping in before Hajime said just as quietly, “I paint.”

Oikawa paused. You could see the glow from the lamp on his desk. A few frames leaning against the far wall, too dark to decipher. He fully turned his head to look at Hajime. He blinked slowly. A small, but so very genuine smile on his lips. “ _ Thank you. _ ”

Oikawa turned back, shutting the door behind him. Hajime didn’t stay in the hallway long after. Returning to his studio he sat himself at his easel.

A cityscape, from right outside his window. The lights shining from below added a hazy glow. A few apartment lights were still on, scattering from building to building. 

Every night the scenery was different. Never the same cars driving by, or late night students staying up. But that was okay. That’s what made the world feel  _ alive.  _

Coffee forgotten, eyes slowly blinking, brush hardly stable in his hand. It was time to call it a night. 

Hajime slowly got up, putting his supplies away. Slightly bleary from the lack of sleep. It was late, late enough for the roads to be empty, and blinds finally shut. He hung his apron, and opened the door. His senses sharpened when he saw the light coming from Oikawa’s room _ still on. _

Okay, this was  _ probably _ what Akaashi was talking about. He heard papers rustling, and keys being typed. How does someone study for that damn long. Hajime gave a sharp, hard knock on the door. All sounds stopped.

“Oikawa, I know you're still awake.” The light turned off, “Open the door.” His voice left no room for argument. 

The door cracked open, just an inch. An eye peeking at him. This closely, Hajime could see slight dark circles under his eyes. The door opened wider revealing Oikawa’s desk, laptop still on, textbooks still open. He scanned the room, everything was still pristine besides the desk.

Oikawa was biting his lip, eyes staring at the floor. “You need sleep,” Hajime snapped.

He chided, “I could say the same to you.” 

“I was, but you wouldn’t have.”

Oikawa stayed silent. He was clutching a pen between his fingers absentmindedly spinning it. Hajime followed the movement with his eyes. “I don’t want to call Akaashi.” He insisted.

“You don’t have Aka-chan’s-”

Hajime interrupted, “I do.”

Oikawa finally looked at him. The exhaustion visible from his posture. His gaze was challenging, but they both knew that they were too tired to argue. Oikawa mumbled, the only words Hajime heard were ‘cup’ and ‘water’. He nodded and headed to the sink.

Oikawa went into the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet from what Hajime could hear. He came out with a pill in one hand. Hajime handed him the glass. “Sleeping pills?” he asked as Oikawa gulped down the water.

“Melatonin.” Hajime didn’t say anything, not knowing how to respond. He took the glass from Oikawa’s hand, quickly rinsing it as the latter stumbled to his room. “Goodnight Iwa-chan.” The exhaustion in his voice barely covered by his attempt to sound awake.

“‘Night Oikawa.” The weight in his stomach lifted, if not all, just a little. Enough for him to sleep peacefully.

* * *

Oikawa was still asleep when Hajime left for groceries in the afternoon. When he came back the apartment was quiet. He checked to see if Oikawa was still sleeping. He was.

It didn’t sit well with Hajime. He wanted to know, to understand, but he figured that Oikawa would talk to him if he wanted Hajime to know. He should text Akaashi, he knows that. But the way Oikawa challenged him made Hajime stop.

His stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten much, so he set to making lunch. Something warm since the weather was cooler. 

Hajime prepared the rice, letting it cook in the rice cooker. He got out dashi broth pouring it into a pot. He chopped tofu, and green onion while he waited for the broth to start simmering. Scooping out miso paste, and mixing it into the broth. Then putting in the tofu, and seaweed.

He covered it with a lid and left the soup to boil while he prepared the eggs. Cracking three into a bowl he whisked them with a pair of chopsticks. Cooking it in a rectangular pan creating a rolled omelet.

He was plating together his meal when Oikawa came out of the bathroom, still in the same clothes from last night. Walking into the kitchen, and sitting on empty counter space. “Good morning Iwa-chan,” He yawned.

“Good  _ afternoon _ ,” Oikawa looked at him with a lopsided grin. Hajime got out another set of bowls. Spooning miso soup, and rice. “Come over to the table, I made lunch.”

Oikawa followed him to the dining table, sitting in his usual spot. Hajime sitting across from him. They started eating, but it wasn’t in their usual comfortable silence. There was a twinge of awkwardness in the air. He didn’t know who was the cause of it. Most likely both of them. 

The mood was growing and one of them really needed to break the tension. It looked like Oikawa wasn’t going to give, so Hajime, being the responsible adult he is asked (more like stated), “You don’t actually have a test today, do you?”

Oikawa looked at him, and shook his head. “It’s-” He looked down at his bowl, mixing the soup, “-It’s anxiety.”

_ Anxiety?  _ That’s it? Everyone got anxiety, hell Hajime was constantly drowning in it. But.. Why was Oikawa so nervous about the topic? Hajime wasn't good at these kinds of things. Reassurance, yeah, that always works. “You know you can always-”

“Stop.”

“I’m just say-”

“ _ No. _ ” Oikawa’s voice was hard. Telling Hajime to back off.

_ And thank whatever deity was watching over them _ because the tense moment was broken when Kuroo came in laughing with Daichi following right behind. “Yo Iwa! You have got to hear the story Daichi just- Ooo! Is that miso soup.”

Kuroo hopped over to the kitchen immediately spooning some into a bowl. Daichi sat at the table facing towards the kitchen when Kuroo joined them. 

The three of them continued to eat, but Daichi was looking between Hajime and Oikawa. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. Brows furrowed. Then he opened his mouth again, “Did we interrupt something?”

Oikawa went stiff, and Hajime glanced at Kuroo, who had his eyebrows raised, or eyebrow from what he could see. Hajime coughed out, “Family.”

That was the easiest lie he could tell. Both his friends knew of the troubles within his family, not that Oikawa would find out. 

Kuroo was the next to speak, “Was it your  _ Okaasan. _ ” His attention was focused on Hajime now. Soup untouched. Hajime shook his head. Oikawa’s eyes darted toward him, curiosity written all over his face. Daichi, being the every so  _ Daichi _ , was sending him a stern look across the table, arms crossed.

Hajime grit his teeth letting out a short, “No.”

The subject was dropped. The intensity that settled over them splintered, (again,  _ bless Kuroo. _ ) “So you know that salty bitch Tsukishima who works with Daichi?” 

Everyone’s attention now directed at Kuroo, who looked equally invested in telling the story. Daichi had a grin on his face, knowing what was going to be said next. “So I was over at his restaurant since I just finished work right?” They nodded, “So he was serving this dude, dyed blond undercut, a tongue piercing, and  _ holy shit  _ he could’ve been a model. That’s how hot he was,

“Anyways, Tsukki goes over, saying names  _ blah blah blah,  _ and then,” Kuroo’s voice started wavering. Biting his cheeks to keep from laughing. “The dude goes ‘ _ people don’t usually say my name like that.’  _ and winked at him.” And there he goes. Kuroo erupted in laughter unable to finish the rest of the story.

Luckily Daichi continued for him, “Tsukishima went,  _ ‘I’m sorry, I’ll try to sound more disappointed next time.’ _ ”

Kuroo started laughing even harder. Hand banging on the table. Oikawa, for his credit, looked like a chipmunk with its cheeks stuffed. Face red, and shoulders shaking. The damn bastard added, “He- he should’ve.. _.I’ll give you my number so you won't have to be so disheartened. _ ” 

Daichi started chuckling, using an arm to cover his smile. Hajime looked between the three of them, a huge grin spread across his face. This was what he loved about his friends. They always had ways to cheer everyone up. The awkwardness from before was completely dissipated. Instead filled with warmth and laughter.

The atmosphere was familiar, and the color of it never changed.

* * *

There was a spot of light blue on the coffee table, deep red on the kitchen counter, and a bright green on the fridge door.

They were barely noticeable, Tooru hadn’t seen them until today. Tiny dots, and organic shapes.  _ What about my room?  _ He thought as his feet took him over there.

Nothing on his nightstands, or bed frame. The doors were spotless, not even a scratch lining the surface. Lamps were squeaky clean. The room was pristine, not a speck of dust in the air. He wondered if Iwaizumi’s room had any colors scattered around. 

Tooru’s room felt empty, bare. It was too... _ disembodied.  _ Even with his treasured pieces hung up, and him becoming comfortable with his surroundings, it felt all wrong now. 

He needed a distraction. Snapping his fingers together, and tapping his foot, Tooru looked around the room. Breath coming slightly uneven. He couldn’t nap, and he had nothing to study at the moment. He had nothing to organize either.

_Come on, think, think, think, you-_ _Ah,_ he hadn’t drawn in a while.

His sketchbook was drowning under the pile of textbooks on his desk. His eye on the target he walked over, digging out the worn out book. He opened the first few pages, flipping through old ideas until something caught his sight. At the edge of his vision.

_ Yellow. _

A line of yellow at the corner of his desk. How hadn’t he noticed it before? He’s sat here for hours upon hours, yet hadn’t seen the flash of color.  _ Weird.  _

Before he could mull over the thought Iwaizumi knocked. He could’ve just entered, since Tooru’s door was halfway open. Good to know that Iwaizumi had a sense of manners. 

Tooru let out a hum to signify for the other man to come in. He placed his sketchbook back on his desk, and leaned against it, resting his hands beside him. Resisting the urge to fiddle with his fingers.

Iwaizumi came in and immediately started to talk, “I’m going to the gym with Kuroo, Daichi, and Bokuto, so I’ll be gone for a while. Just wanted to extend the invitation.”

Curious eyes scanned the room. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, gaze focused on Tooru’s favorite painting, and his most expensive. It was by the artist who went by  _ H.J.  _ There wasn’t very much information about the painter, except that their pieces were mind-blowing. 

“I’ll decline,” looking back at Iwaizumi who wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, “Is there a problem?” Jerking his chin to the painting.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat, finally looking back at Tooru. He gave an apologetic smile, “Sorry, it’s nothing.” He took a few steps backward, sparing another glance, this time to another painting above his bed, by the same artist. “I’ll see you later.” sending a small wave before stumbling out.

_ Strange.  _ The way Iwaizumi acted was, well… strange. Tooru thought nothing of it. Retreating to the couch, sketchbook in hand. 

Hours later, Tooru wasn’t exactly counting, he heard the door open. And  _ fuck him if he was wrong  _ but the three men that came in looked straight out of a commercial. Why Daichi was wearing a  _ tight  _ polo was beyond him. Suga really chose a good one because those jeans should be  _ illegal _ . 

Kuroo on the other hand. He really never loses the bad boy charm. Loose red tank top, and grey sweats,  _ Jesus. Tooru needed Jesus.  _ He really shouldn’t be ogling, but how could you not? 

_ And Iwaizumi,  _ no one should look that hot in a black hoodie and shorts.  _ No one.  _ Expect he did. His hair was still slightly damp, and ruffled. Sure Tooru knew he was good looking, but not  _ this  _ type of good looking. 

“I knew I was hot but, damn.” He interrupted their bickering. Wow, he really needed to fix his brain to mouth filter.

The three turned to look at him. Kuroo was sporting a smirk, arms crossed while the other two were a flustering mess. Instantly changing the subject he said, “Where’s Bo-chan?”

Daichi was the first to fix his composure with a sour expression, “He’s coming up with take-out right now.”

“He’s just mad that we got it from this rival restaurant.” Kuroo beamed.

Daichi sent him a glare and headed over to the couch. Tooru sat up crossing his legs, and setting his sketchbook in his lap. He glanced over and caught Daichi’s eye. He looked back at his sketchbook. Silently handing it to the other man.

Iwaizumi and Kuroo were in the kitchen, out of prying eyes. Daichi flipped through, leaning back on the couch. His face not giving anything away. Tooru sat quietly, fiddling with a pencil while bouncing his leg. Tooru mumbled to fill the quietness, “It’s probably not as good as Iwa-chan’s but…” He trailed off.

Daichi finally looked at him, “Have you seen Iwaizumi’s drawings?”

“Well no, but-”

He stopped from the soft glare Daichi sent him. “Yeah, Iwaizumi is a great artist, but he doesn’t focus on architectural design.” He handed back the sketchbook. “These are great, amazing actually. You should give yourself more credit.”

“Thanks Dai-chan.” he said with a soft smile. Laying the drawings beside him. Then, “Wait, you’ve seen Iwa-chan’s work?”

Daichi blinked at the question. He gave a nervous chuckle, running his hand through his hair. “I have.”

Tooru wanted him to elaborate, but he was interrupted by the door slamming open.

A few moments later Bokuto came in with bags full of food. It smelled amazing, and he bet it tasted even better. “Hey! Hey everyone!” he grinned.

“Bo-chan!”

“Hey Oikawa.” He greeted, waving a bag in the air. Bokuto set the bags on the dining table and came over to sit on the armchair. Elbows resting on his thighs, and hair damply pushed back, Bokuto looked just as good as the other three.

Oh, Tooru had a plan. He opened his camera app on his phone, “Bo-chan smile!”

Bokuto gave a radiant smile and Tooru snapped a quick picture, sending it to Akaashi with a smirk. Bokuto didn’t question him for the picture, but Daichi looked over his shoulder. Expression pinched, he murmured, “I feel like I’ve heard that name before.”

Tooru brushed off what Daichi said, opting to focus on Akaashi’s response.

**_From: Aka-chan_ ** **_♡_ **

**_> >(7:45) why_ **

**_To: Aka-chan♡_ **

**_> >(7:45) Ik how much you wanna hit that~ ;)_ **

**_From: Aka-chan♡_ **

**_> >(7:46) no._ **

**_> >(7:46) *Aka-chan♡ saved a photo*_ **

Tooru let out a quiet chuckle, putting his phone away. Walking over to the takeout boxes. He took out several containers, the smell making him hungrier by the second. Tooru opened them all and organized them on the table. There was a lot of food, but considering four grown men just came from the gym it made sense. 

The promising scent of food brought everyone over. Kuroo and Iwaizumi carried over plates, handing them out. They five of them bickered over the food. Who got what, and pieces that were split to make it fair.

Everyone eventually sat on the floor in the living room, using the coffee table for their plates and drinks. The tv was on, a random show playing. No one paid attention to the drama in the background. Instead they conversed with one another.

They explained their gym competition with each other, and how Bokuto always called a tie whenever they kept at it for too long.

Tooru always had the impression that Bokuto would go above and beyond, and never quit. Seeing the responsible side of him, the way he explained to everyone the dangers of overworking yourself with words Tooru never heard of, made him respect Bokuto more.

The conversation somehow shifted to Kuroo talking about pole dancing. Then Tooru remembered that Akaashi took classes every week. 

“What gym do you guys go to?” Tooru questioned.

“The one near the Tashiro Mart?” Kuroo answered. The three others nodded. “Yeah, It’s huge, three stories.”

“When do you go?”

“Sundays, around the time I left.” Said Iwaizumi.

How disappointing. Akaashi’s classes are on Tuesdays. “They have classes on Tuesday if you ever want to join Bo-chan.” Sending him a wink.

Bokuto flushed, “W-why?”

Kuroo eyed Tooru, a gleam in his eyes told him that he knew. He gave a light shove to Bokuto’s shoulder saying, “Oh you know, just the infamous Akaashi you won’t stop talking about takes a few classes there.”

“So that’s why the name sounded so familiar.” Daichi realized. 

Bokuto flushed a deeper pink turning red. He tried stuttering a response, and failing. Instead grabbing his chopsticks and stuffing food into his mouth so he didn’t have to answer anyone. 

Everyone around him chuckled, and continued eating. Kuroo slapped Bokuto on the back, almost causing him to choke. 

Random topics floated around as everyone finished their food. The room filled with the brightness from everyone’s smiles, and laughter. Tooru’s face never hurt this much from smiling before. Eyes squinting, teeth gleaming, and rosy flush covering his cheeks. 

Even after everyone left and Iwaizumi helped him clean, the feeling still remained. The same one from a few nights ago when Daichi and Kuroo came over. 

And it felt like daffodil yellow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this bad obsession with Akaashi pole dancing. He lives in my mind rent free 25/8 and I'm doing nothing about it. I might change the texting format because I feel like it could get annoying in the future-
> 
> Next time (maybe):  
> -Did I say SemiShira?  
> -How will Tooru pay for half the rent?  
> -SemiOiKen supremacy (They. need. a. break.)  
> -They do, just with a bit of force ^^


	4. Dioxazine Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Semi Semi!"
> 
> "No." Why did he come with Shirabu this month. _Why._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is late !! But it's still Sunday so it should still be considered 'on time'. I've gotten rid of the college tag because this story doesn't really revolve around it. And I'm changing the 'light angst' to 'angst' because of stuff going forward into the story.  
> This was suppose to be around 4000-ish words, but ended up being 6000+ :')
> 
> and uHm- lasdlhfjldasjfh? Never did I expect so many people to read this in so little time. U guys make me rlly happy if you haven’t noticed :D

He finally had a break! Or, at least a partial one.

Tooru was walking to Makki’s café deciding to use his 3 hours of freedom to annoy him to the best of his ability. Hoping it didn’t result in a soiled outfit like last time.

He was hosting his bi-monthly workshop with Takeda today, giving him much less free time than normal. Why not use it to tick off Makki? He could’ve stayed back at the apartment. But that was boring considering Iwaizumi was gone, and he’d also finished his assignments. 

“Makki~” He sings songs, “Your favorite customer is here.”

Makki looked up from the register, a frown starting to form, “What are you doing here.”

“Aww, don’t you think I just want to hang out with my friend for a while.”

Makki sighs and waits for Tooru to make it over to the front counter. He sends him a bored stare, borderline threatening. “I swear if you-”

“I’ll have a large, triple, half sweet, non-fat, caramel macchiato,” He paused, smirking, “upside down.” Makki practically had smoke coming out of his ears, his eyes flaming. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Each time Tooru came, the worse he made sure his orders were. 

The barista wrote down the order and threw the cup at Tooru’s face, “Make it yourself if you want a drink.” Tooru easily caught it between his fingers.

He smiled like a child at a candy store squealing in delight, coming behind the counter and grabbing an apron. Makki sometimes let Tooru work with him, though he didn’t get paid for it. He still enjoyed the experience, learning how to make new drinks every now and then. It was also a great way to pass time.

As Tooru whipped up his drink he noticed Makki scowling. He didn’t usually get angered easily, he wondered what happened. Tooru did come here for the sole purpose of annoying his friend, so he grabbed a piece of ice from the cooler, creeping up behind Makki.

He knew that the barista’s neck was  _ very sensitive _ . Hence why he wore turtlenecks, and tank tops most of the time. But today was a lucky day, he was wearing a simple button up. 

Right before Makki turned around to shout at Tooru to make an order, he strikes. Pressing the ice into his skin, Makki immediately yelped, slapping the side of his neck to catch Tooru’s hand barely missing his fingers as the ice dragged across the back of his neck. “YOU INTOLERABLE SHIT STICK.”

The café went quiet save for Tooru leaning against the counter, cackling, ice melting between his fingers. Another voice spoke up, “Intolerable shit stick, very creative.”

Mattsun, Tooru could tell. Squinting his eyes he saw Makki’s face turn a bright red, the cup he was holding fell to the ground. Makki tried to speak, he really did, from the multiple times he opened and closed his mouth. But words wouldn’t come out. 

Tooru’s stomach hurt from laughing so much. The barista turned around sending him a glare as he rushed to the back room. Trying to contain his breath he dragged himself to the register. 

“What,” He panted. “can I get for you today.”

The drink he made left abandoned next to the espresso machine. Mattsun looked up at the menu with a hand rubbing his chin in a mocking tone, “I’ll take a large Makki please.”

With a wink and a smirk he said, “Coming right up.”

Tooru walked back to the storage room, trying to open the door only for it to be locked. There was a key behind the coffee beans, no biggy. 

“Makki~” The said person was sitting in a chair, bubblegum hair buried between gripping fingers. He didn’t respond to Tooru, instead his shoulders caved in to make himself smaller. This wasn't his friend at all.  Cautiously Tooru slid in front of him, crouching down trying to look up at Makki, expression softening. His fingers slowly circled around Makki’s forearms prying them away. He spoke softly, “Hey.”

This time he got a response. Makki’s voice was shaky at best, “What do you want Oikawa.”

“I’m here to check up on a friend. So tell me what’s up. You’ve been odd before I even came in. I noticed.” It was times like this that Tooru cut out the teasing in favor of comfort. He could be an asshole, but he knew when to cut it out. 

Tooru slid his hands down to hold Makki’s hands. Giving a light squeeze of encouragement. The latter sighed, “I-” Finally looking at Tooru he said, “-I’m a mess. An embarrassment. You saw, you saw what happened out there. I made a fool of myself, and..”

He waited for Makki to keep speaking, giving him time, “I keep messing up. A disappointment, I don’t-” Tears started welling up, “I can’t ever do anything right. Ma was right, of course she was right, she always-”

_ “Wrong.” _ Makki finally looked up meeting his stare with glassy eyes. “She’s  _ wrong.  _ You're a manager for fucks sake! It only took you a year of hard work to get here. And yeah everyone messes up, gets embarrassed, but those happen for improvement. Besides what I just did but that’s not the point.” Taking a deep breath he continued,

“You weren’t the best at latte art when you first started right?” Makki shook his head. “And now..?” Leaving the question for him to answer.

“I’m.. better than the rest of the employees.” His eyes looked everywhere besides Tooru. A slight blush on his cheeks.

“See? Now go out there, I can’t stay still any longer and I’ve got an order for a large Makki, I should’ve said you only came in small.” A sly grin took over Tooru’s face. He poked Makki’s cheek.

“You asshole.” But it was said without any bite. Makki swatted his hand away as he got up and patted his uniform down. He walked towards the closed door, Tooru following behind. Makki turned back with a grin. “Besides I’m a medium at the minimum.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

They walked back out. Mattsun was sitting at the counter, scrolling through his phone, a flower twirling around his other hand. He looked up at the two men coming back. 

Tooru decided to remake his drink, to leave them alone for some time. He’d grant them that for a little while. But not without eavesdropping of course. Small snippets of conversation were heard, nothing noteworthy. 

They took orders, brewed coffee, and worked to and fro. Time passed, and Mattsun still stayed in the small spot. Eyes always following Makki. One time Tooru caught his eye raising his brow with a knowing look and Mattsun just gave a lazy grin in response. 

Makki continued through his shift with a small smile that never left his face. Eventually it was time for Tooru to leave. Saying his goodbyes with a steaming cup of tea between his hands. 

As he was outside he sent a glance to the café once more. He caught Mattsun putting the purple iris behind Makki’s ear. The latter’s face tinted with a noticeable blush.

Tooru smiled wistfully, turning back around, heading towards the station. Quietly tapping the side of his cup.

* * *

Every. Single, Time. He denies it.

Yet here he is, sitting next to Shirabu on the train. Grumbling about how much he regrets agreeing to join Shirabu. He didn’t  _ actually  _ regret going though.

“You can just as easily leave, since you won’t stop complaining.” said Shirabu.

Eita stopped mumbling. Glaring to his right, “I’m already here, why would I leave?” Shirabu just rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore him in turn for looking out the window. The sun was still high in the blue, but a small chill told them that winter was right around the corner. 

Under Eita’s keen gaze he saw Shirabu shiver. He sighed, taking off his jacket, handing it to the latter, “Here.”

The man shoved it back to Eita, huffing and crossing his arms defiantly.  _ Geez this guy is a handful.  _ He tugged the jacket back on, opting to take his scarf off. It would be easier to wrap around Shirabu. 

Obviously he did everything he could to be denied of the soft fabric trying to be wrapped around him. Pulling and tugging to material away from himself. “Stop struggling,” Eita argued, “If you catch a cold I won’t be taking care of you, and you’re going to have to count on Goshiki.”

At the statement Shirabu  _ finally  _ stopped fighting him. Face set into a scowl while he let Eita wrap the scarf around his neck. When finished he sits back looking smug.

Eita can’t lie to himself, Shirabu looks  _ cute _ in the dark purple fabric. “You look like shit.”

“You don't get to say that till you fix your fucked up hair.” Eita just rolled his eyes at the insult. All they did was be rude to each other. Every time the two were together, and when they weren’t, text was used. “And why did you bring your music shit? We’re going to a workshop not a music class.”

“What else am I supposed to do for the next 3 hours while you drabble over building blocks?”

“I’m surprised you aren’t deaf yet.”

“ _ Please,  _ you should be blind already.” To prove his point Eita pulled his headphones from his neck to cover his ears. Shirabu scoffed, Eita ignored him. 

The rest of the train ride was quiet. Seriously, how could someone be so aggravating? And how did he notice Kenjirou was shivering? He hadn’t even noticed himself becoming cold. 

Kenjirou snuggled further into the scarf, trying to keep himself warm. They were seated right by a door, meaning the cool air came through the cracks. The heater did nothing, the damn thing was probably broken. 

He inhaled forgetting his nose was stuffed into the downy fabric. He got hit with a whole load of  _ Semi.  _ He closed his eyes breathing in again. Yeah, this was nice. Hints of chestnut and roasted hazelnut. 

He’d question Semi of why he smelled like a warm cottage but he was too absorbed with his head being fuzzy, and molten. He wondered what his hair would smell like, maybe it was really soft from how fluffy it looked. Would it be weird to ask? Ah, being held in his arms would be even better. Being surrounded with comfort, finally relaxing into-

Wait.

Kenjirou’s supposed to hate Semi. He felt his face heating up from thinking of such intimate thoughts. He doesn’t like Semi, no way. They’d been enemies from the moment he took his spot as starting setter.

Then why was he here next to Kenjirou right now? When did they resolve that tension and become... _ friends _ , is that what you’d call their ‘truce’? Or did their mutual hate for each other make them tolerate each other. If only a little bit. 

Ugh, if only life didn’t have to be a game of hot and cold. The one thing Kenjirou was positive of was that he hated Semi. That was final.

The train came to a stop, Semi immediately got up to gather his guitar. The backpack was heavily leaning on his shoulder. Ok, maybe Kenjirou felt a little bad about making him carry his stuff for him. But he was being annoying! Or well, endearing, but whatever.

“Give me the backpack.” Forgetting that Semi wasn’t able to hear him due to his headphones. He waved his hand in front of Semi’s face to catch his attention. Semi slipped off his headphones, Kenjirou repeating what he said.

Semi just let out a frustrated sigh, ignoring him.  _ This guy is so stubborn.  _ Kenjirou pulled on the strap of the backpack causing Semi to stumble.  _ Of course  _ the weight of both their things was weighing him down. Didn’t he have any sense of integrity?

Oh, they were really close together now. Faces inches apart. Semi’s face was set into a scowl, but Kenjirou doesn’t care. When were his eyes this pretty? Specks of grey in a deep brown. He wouldn't mind drowning in them. How does someone have eyes so captivating? They weren’t bright, like blue or green, but still as eye catching. No pun intended.

He didn’t notice the people shuffling around them, complaining for them to move. But Semi did. He growled, “Are you going to move your ass or what?”

_ Oh,  _ this shouldn’t be doing things to Kenjirou. Trying to ignore the flush rising on his face he turned around exiting onto the platform, Semi right behind. 

They traveled through the crowd, weaving through groups of people. Kenjirou’s hand was still attached to the strap, dragging Semi with him. Once they were in a less crowded area they slowed down to a normal pace.

Suddenly a heavy weight dropped in his hand, causing him to lose his balance. He almost tumbled to the ground until someone pulled him back up by the waist. He turned around to say thank you until he noticed it was Semi who helped him. He  _ should  _ thank him, but why would he do that? “You jackass.”

Slinging the backpack over his shoulder he walked in the direction of the workshop. Not waiting for Semi this time. Knowing him, Semi still caught up, even walking a little faster.

“Stop walking so damn fast.” he fumed. Semi doing the complete opposite, started speeding up. He couldn’t break out into a jog because of the guitar on his back. Kenjirou eventually caught up and held onto Semi’s jacket, making him stop.

“Where’d all that endurance go since high school?” Semi teased. Kenjirou had a hand on his knee, the other one still holding Semi’s jacket, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t have anything to retort back. So he stayed silent save for his heavy breathes. Semi didn’t move away, opting to wait for Kenjirou.  _ How considerate.  _

After a minute Kenjirou straightened back up, adjusting the straps on the backpack. His hand never detached from Semi’s sweater as they continued walking. If Semi noticed, he didn’t say anything.

The walk was also quiet, only the sound of Semi humming a tune filled the air. He had a nice voice, it was obvious to anyone who listened to him. Kenjirou was sure that one day he would get huge. Turning a small 100 room of people to thousands at a concert. 

The thought turned sour in his mind. Thinking of the moment when they’d have to leave each other, when their college life was over, and they’d lose contact. No more empty insults, or teasing, or wearing Semi’s scarf, Semi  _ forgetting  _ Kenjirou.

But wouldn't that be better?

For a moment Kenjirou thought of what would happen if he held his hand. Make a move and try starting something now so he doesn’t lose Semi in the future. 

Immediately pushing the thought away he let go of the jacket.  _ Forget it. _

One of the reasons why Eita complained about coming to the workshop was the host. Now the owner, Takeda, was a sweet man. Always wearing a smile, and encouraging people to always try their best. 

_ But the host.  _ Oikawa, was the absolute worst. From his mischievous personality to his flirty nature. God created a disaster if you asked him. Giving him a charming complexion to make up for it. 

Yet somehow, he got roped into Oikawa’s little group of jewels. Only the most precious could make it, and somehow Eita did.

Walking in, Shirabu rushed to his table, Eita was about to follow him until he heard a shrilling, “Semi Semi!”

His immediate response being, “No.”

Oikawa put a hand over his heart, head tilted back. Fake despair written all over his face. Looking back at him with a dramatic pouty face he said, “You’ve hurt your poor senpai’s feelings.”

“You don’t convey real emotions.”

“Touché.” With a wink he left to greet the people just coming through the door. 

Shirabu was already setting up his work station when Eita got there. What he was building? Eita had absolutely no idea.

He sat across from where Shirabu was working, who opted to stand instead. He pulled out his laptop and synced his launchpad. Stretching his arms in front of him getting ready for 3 hours of zoning out with the occasional distraction from Oikawa. 

He already had a finished recording, edited and everything. But he could make it better. He started creating a duplicate, and then splitting the soundtrack into individual recordings. Using his launchpad to create new beats, trying to mesh the sounds together he eventually got lost within his own little world. 

The song made him imagine hazel eyes, tawny hair, delicate fingers, the faint scent of chocolate. Memories of midnight s'mores made in the kitchen, quiet moments of stillness, times of when they couldn’t figure out technology and always came to him for help. The small blush when they got embarrassed. The small bit of their lip when they're in full concentration.

How could someone not cherish something as delicate as this? Every feature of him was extraordinary. 

Eita didn’t notice when someone plugged earbuds into his laptop listening with him. He glanced up at Shirabu, nose scrunched in concentration, lower lip between his teeth as he glued wood together. It was adorable. He wondered what he’d say if Eita confessed to him.

If he’d return his feelings, and they’d be together. Share a dorm, or apartment. Eita’s been saving up for one. Being able to hold his hand, kiss him, hold him. Waking up to Shirabu next to him, knowing that he’ll be there again at night. 

But, he couldn’t have what was right in front of him. No matter how much he wanted it. He couldn’t ruin what small friendship they had. Something that took forever to build up, Eita wouldn’t risk that. Never. 

He'd rather be with Shirabu the way they are now than not at all. Shirabu hated him anyway.

The next person he came in contact with was Oikawa, who was right beside him, making Eita flinch back. Oikawa sat there with his face in his hands, sending him that  _ look  _ that told him that he knew what was going on.

He took off his headphones knowing that he couldn’t escape Oikawa no matter what. Of course he won, Oikawa always  _ won.  _ “Our little Semi Semi has a crush on his precious kohai.” He drawled. Waving a finger towards him.

He slapped the hand away, trying to suppress his heartbeat, and the blush threatening to appear. Risking another quick glance at Shirabu, who seemed to be fully focused on his project.  _ Thank god.  _

“Anyways,” Oikawa said, “Come over tonight.”

“I’m not fucking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. A shame really.” he winked, “just to hang out, it’s been a while. Or should I make it a playdate-”

“I’m only a few months younger than you.” Eita deadpanned.

That didn’t deter Oikawa from talking to him like he was a baby. He smiled, “I’ll take that as a yes.” He got off the stool about to walk away before Eita caught his wrist.

“I never agreed.”

“You never said no.” He pulled away before Eita could say anything. He put his headphones back on turning back to his laptop. He could’ve denied going, but Oikawa never gave up. It was in his nature. Eita would’ve gone anyway, he hadn’t seen Akaashi in a while, it’d be nice to catch up with them.

Time passed rather quickly after that. Soon enough everyone was packing up, getting ready to leave. Eita and Shirabu stayed behind waiting for Oikawa to finish his rounds. He was talking to Takeda at the moment.

“What time are you coming back?” Shirabu asked.

“Around 9.” They both knew that was a lie. Eita never left until Shirabu came to pick him up. At first he just did it to annoy him, but soon it was for different reasons. He wanted to spend more time with him. And this was one of the ways to do it. Even the short walk to the dorms was appreciated by Eita.

Oikawa made his way over after saying farewell to Takeda, “Is Kenji-chan joining us tonight?” Trying to squish Shirabu’s cheeks and failing by him stepping closer to Eita.

“I have some studying to do.” he responded. 

“Always the good student, aren't you. Well I’ll be taking Semi Semi with me then.” He smiled at Eita. 

Shirabu hummed. They walked to the door after waving goodbye heading to the main road. Oikawa was talking about the new sweater he was wearing. A forest green knit sweater tucked into light wash jeans.

Eventually they got to an unknown intersection. This wasn’t the normal route they took. “Hey Oikawa, where are we going?”

“Huh?” looking at Eita, confusion written all over his face. A light seemed to go off over his head as he came to a realization. “We’re going to my apartment.”

“Huh?” mirroring Oikawa’s earlier expression.

“I moved in with someone a few weeks ago. I never told you? Has Semi Semi been ignoring me this whole time?” He looked betrayed, blinking tears back. When did he learn to fake cry?

“No you never said anything.” Oikawa continued into an essay about his roommate, and the tenants. Eita was barely listening, noticing that Shirabu left them alone without saying anything. 

_ His kohai huh? _ Kenjirou thought as he walked to the dorms.  _ What a sick joke. _

* * *

“Iwa-chan! I’m back.”

“I’m busy Shittykawa.” Tooru heard Iwaizumi shout from the living room. At least he wasn’t holed up in that room for once. Or is it a studio? Either way Iwaizumi finally came out of his rabbit hole.

“You have a roommate?” Semi asked while taking off his shoes.

Tooru hit the back of his head lightly. “Semi Semi did you seriously not listen to me the whole way here.”

“No.” 

“You’ve wound me Semi-chan.” They walked into the open space seeing Iwaizumi packing up books. There was a delicious scent wafting through the air, Tooru headed to the kitchen seeing something on the stove. Chicken skewers were on a grill. “Iwa-chan did you make yakitori?”

His mouth was watering just by looking at them. Iwaizumi hummed in agreement saying he already ate. Tooru grabbed two bowls from the cabinet filling them up with rice and placing the skewered chicken on top bringing them to the table.

Oh! He forgot Semi. Who was standing by the kitchen looking around, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. The guitar was still strung to his back. Iwaizumi still hasn’t noticed Semi there.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru called. Iwaizumi looked up, finally seeing the guest, “This is Semi, Semi this is Iwa-chan.”

“Iwaizumi, but you can call me Iwa.” Iwaizumi got up carrying his backpack coming over to Semi to shake his hand. Tooru sat at the table waiting. “Semi… Eita right?”

Semi’s eyes widened, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. Sputtering out a quick ‘yeah’. If Tooru knew any better he’d say Semi was shy. If Iwaizumi noticed he didn’t leave. “One of my friends is a huge fan of yours.”

“Uhm, thanks.” He returned awkwardly. His face was dusted in a bright pink. Semi was glancing at Tooru in hopes for him to get out of the situation.

Tooru interrupted, “He works at the coffee shop a few blocks away, if you ever want to surprise him. But you can save that for another time,” gesturing to the food, “We wouldn’t want to waste Iwa-chan’s amazing cooking now, do we?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll be working if you need me.” Iwaizumi said, excusing himself. If Tooru saw correctly the tips of his ears were red. Complimenting Iwaizumi was the easiest way to get him flustered. Tooru found out a few days ago when they had soba for dinner. 

Semi dropped his stuff on the couch and came over to the table, sitting diagonal from him. Picking up his chopsticks he waited for Tooru. They said their blessing and started eating.

It’s been a while since Tooru hung out with Semi. He’d recently released a new song. Now, Semi wasn’t the biggest music artist, but he was steadily growing. Tooru was sure that he would get huge, and dominate the music world. If his singing ability had any say in it. He’s surprised that Semi hadn’t gotten contacted by any agents yet, though that was most likely going to happen in the near future.

Tooru took the dishes away once they were finished. Semi went to the couch taking out his guitar, and laptop. He learned that Semi was also a natural at strings. 

He started playing a soft, calming tune. Using his fingers to lightly strum. The sound resonated through the apartment, not too loud. Tooru started swaying as he scrubbed the bowls.  Maybe Iwaizumi could hear Semi playing too. 

When he finished drying the last dish he went to his room to gather a few books. His eyes were straining lately so he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand. Deciding against bringing his laptop. He’d just go over some material and take notes tonight.

Semi didn’t look up as Tooru came into the living room, sitting on the ground in front of Semi. He’d taken a liking to the floor somehow. The couch and armchair were comfortable, but something about the rug under him was enjoyable. 

They were both in their own headspace, but the company was pleasant. Semi played music while Tooru wrote down notes. An odd combination that worked for them.

The peaceful bubble was broken by Semi, “Oikawa, why is there a cat sitting on the table?”

Tooru glanced up seeing Atlas laying on the table staring at them. Kenma must be here, but where? He wasn’t in the kitchen, and not in plain sight. “That’s Atlas, Kenma’s cat.”

He called out, “Kenma?”

No response. Atlas seeming to know where Kenma was, jumped to the floor turning the corner. Tooru held up a finger to Semi to give him a minute. Semi nodded in understanding, continuing to play.

Atlas was seating in front of the locked door, scratching it. The door opened slightly revealing the small blond holding a PSP in one hand. “Hey Kenma,”

He glanced up at Tooru, not saying anything, starting to shut the door, but Tooru caught it before it closed completely. He couldn’t see the rest of the room from his view point. “Wait, I think you know that I have someone over,” Kenma nodded, “and I’d like you to meet them.”

Kenma immediately shook his head. Tooru knew of his social anxiety, but he also knew the gamers passion for music. Crouching down to catch Kenma's eyes once more he said, “I know you heard the music, and I’ll be there the whole time, same with Atlas.”

The cat gave a meow in response, sliding between Kenma’s legs. He clutched his PSP trying to hide himself with his hair.  Tooru held out his hand encouraging him. It was all up to Kenma, if he really didn’t want to, Tooru would respect that. But sometimes he needed a little push.

Kenma stuffed his Gameboy into his hoodie pocket, taking hold of Tooru's hand. Gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him alive, Tooru squeezed back. Kenma closed the door behind him, still staring at the floor. 

Tooru slowly led him to the living room, Atlas right at his heels. Semi looked up sensing the new person. “Semi-chan this is Kenma, Kenma, Semi-chan.”

Kenma looked up, not fully, and gave a small wave. Semi smiled, even though Kenma probably didn’t catch it. Waving back he said, “Hey Kenma, It’s nice to meet you, I'm Semi Eita.”

Tooru felt Kenma’s grip slightly slacken. “Eita,” he murmured, “As in the music artist.”

Semi must’ve heard him from the small blush on his face. 

Tooru brought him over to sit next to him, knowing that it would make Kenma more comfortable around Semi. Atlas sat in Tooru’s lap surprisingly, since her owner was right next to him. 

Kenma automatically brought his PSP out, resuming the game he was playing. They took that as a signal to continue what they were originally doing. Semi opened his laptop connecting his launchpad. Tooru noticed Kenma constantly glancing up to see the bright buttons. 

After 10 minutes passed, he spotted Kenma at the corner of the coffee table now. He was still focused on his game, but seemed to move towards Semi, slowly but surely. Tooru smiled at the thought that Kenma was trying. 

Another 5 minutes had Kenma practically leaning on the couch. PSP left abandoned on the table. He still didn’t make a move to talk, but his progress in such a short time was amazing.  Tooru knew that the relation to music would attract him. Atlas was now fast asleep from Tooru petting her, letting out soft purrs every now and then.

He saw Semi take out a pair of earbuds from a pocket in his case, quietly handing them to Kenma. The blond jumped a little when taking them, but didn’t move away. Semi connected the cord to his laptop. 

Tooru couldn’t see what Semi was doing on his screen but from Kenma’s expression it seemed that they were doing just fine. 

Eventually Semi unplugged the earbuds and took off his headphones. Choosing to work without them. Tooru was fine with it, especially since he was going to ask if Semi would anyway. To provide him a distraction.

Ah, this was the same song that he listened to at the workshop. It was obvious that this was about Shirabu. It screamed Shirabu’s name. The recording was an acoustic version. One of the few words he learned about when listening to Semi. Kenma was tapping notes with the launchpad, trying multiple beats to go with the music.

No one was keeping track of time. Too absorbed into their work to notice how late it was getting. 

The doorbell rang breaking their focus. Tooru spoke, “That must be Kenji-chan.”

“I don’t remember giving him the address.” Semi said skeptically.

“I texted him earlier.” Tooru confirmed. He opened the door revealing Shirabu on the other side. “Kenji-chan looks so cute in his scarf.” He quipped.  Shirabu blushed, Shoving his head further into the fabric. “Is our Kenji-chan flustered, or getting sick.” he quizzed.

“I told him to wear something heavier damn it,” Tooru heard Semi behind him. “Of course you don’t listen to me, here.” Shoving his jacket towards Shirabu. 

He took it without complaint though he glared at Semi as he wore it.  _ Kenma must still be on the couch.  _ Tooru might as well get them out as soon as possible. “Semi-chan,” he drawled, “You should show Kenji-chan the song you're making right now.” Sending Shirabu a wink.

Semi looked back in horror, making Tooru chuckle. “What song?” asked Shirabu.

Semi moved out the door, pushing Shirabu with him, “Nothing, let’s go.” he turned back around after a few steps, “Hey Oikawa, how does Kenma know so much about music?”

Tooru grinned, “Kozume Kenma, 23, video game composer.”

Semi blinked, then blinked again processing the new information, jaw dropping. He whispered, “Holy shit, I just worked with Kozume Kenma.” coming to a realization. 

“Indeed you did. Now shoo, leave. Kenji-chan won’t be waiting for you any sooner.” Tooru motioned with his hand. Semi turned back around, walking slightly slower than at first. Tooru sniggered. Kenma was well known in the music industry for his soundtracks, but most people didn't actually know who he was. It reminded him of a certain mysterious artist. 

Tooru came back inside seeing Kenma heat a few yakitori on the stove. He sat back down in his original spot ready to study again. Atlas was crawling towards the kitchen now, stretching along the way. 

Kuroo came a few moments later, Kenma had already set two plates on the table. Somehow knowing his boyfriend was on the way. Kuroo immediately dug in. Asking questions in between bites. Kenma answered them easily. 

It was only when it came to Kuroo that Kenma was completely relaxed. To get him to talk about his day, and say more than 5 words a sentence was staggering. Someone who was so quiet, could be entirely open with the right person. 

The couple left shortly after, fingers intertwined together, Atlas following next to them. 

Once they were gone Tooru felt  _ off.  _ He didn’t know why. He looked around to see if something was misplaced, or broken. Nothing was. Was it the yakitori he had earlier? Maybe he was still hungry? He didn’t feel hungry. There wasn't anything playing on the tv providing background music, no Semi strumming a song, or Kenma pressing buttons, or Kuroo talking. It was too  _ quiet.  _

He needed  _ sound.  _ Pacing to his room he grabbed a pair of earbuds and his phone.  Turning on a random playlist, and setting the volume higher until he couldn’t hear anything around him.

* * *

Hajime was  _ finally  _ half-way through his last painting. And he needed a well deserved break, or at least call it a day. That sounded better. It was almost 10 pm anyways.

He quickly washed his brushes and set them aside. Scraping the acrylic paint off his palette. He hung up his smock, and left.

It seemed that Oikawa was studying at the coffee table. When was the last time Hajime didn’t see him studying? He’d call himself a workaholic but Oikawa was on a whole nother level. 

And who knew when the last time he had a break was. He heard Semi leave about an hour ago, and he thought he also heard Kuroo. Though he couldn’t be so sure. 

“Hey Oikawa.” No response. “Oikawa.” Still no response. “Shittykawa can you even hear me?” Seemed like the answer was a no.

As Hajime drew closer he could hear music coming from Oikawa’s earbuds.  _ How is this guy not deaf yet?  _

Oikawa still hadn’t noticed him until Hajime chucked off his earbuds. Rubbing his ears he complained, “Ow, Iwa-chan is so cruel.”

“You need to take a break, dumbass.”

“I’ve barely studied.” he whined. They’ve had this argument more times than he’d like this week. “Besides-”

“We can watch a movie.” Oikawa closed his mouth looking up at Hajime, eyes wide and starry like.  _ Well that worked.  _ He gave a lazy grin, “Go change and I’ll get some popcorn started.”

Oikawa was still in his clothes from earlier. Which looked  _ good  _ on him but probably not the most comfortable. With a big smile Oikawa said, “I’ll get the blankets.” He jumped up gathering his books heading off to his room. 

Hajime chuckled, grabbing a bag of popcorn from the pantry and heating it up in the microwave. He moved to grab a bowl as Oikawa came back with an armful of blankets changed into an E.T. hoodie and sweats. “Iwa-chan, help me.”

Hajime shook his head with a smile, coming over to lift some of the weight off, placing it on the couch. He went back when the timer went off. He heard Oikawa flop onto the couch when it let out a small squeak. 

The lights were already off. The only brightness coming from the tv. Hajime came back with the bowl of popcorn, getting himself comfortable in the mass of blankets on the small couch. He felt more than saw Oikawa lifting his feet into Hajime’s lap. “Oi Shittykawa get your feet off.” Pushing his legs off him.

Oikawa denied him putting his feet back every time Hajime pushed them off. Eventually he gave up, placing the bowl on his legs so they could both reach. “What are we watching?” Hajime asked.

“Star Wars, the only acceptable movie to watch.” he said with pride.

“Godzilla is better.” Oikawa’s face turned to disgust.

“How dare Iwa-chan say Godzilla is better,” He huffed, “you haven’t appreciated the film enough.” Finding the designated movie.

“Next time I get to pick the movie.” Oikawa hummed, losing interest in the conversation as the previews started playing. Hajime sat back just as engrossed as Oikawa was. 

Halfway through the movie their hands reached for the popcorn at the same time. Both automatically darted their hands back apologizing. Oikawa was mindlessly quoting the scenes here and there. Small whispers, barely heard from the volume of the movie. Hajime throwing a few pieces of popcorn telling him to shut up. 

After some time they both grew tired, eyes barely staying open, only 20 minutes left. But none of them seemed to care. The popcorn bowl was now on the coffee table, and the blankets were oh so warm. Lulling them to sleep.

Oikawa was pretty much asleep already, from his closed eyes to his soft breathing. It reminded him that yeah, sleep sounds nice. 

Hajime shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position. Unthinkingly tangling his legs with Oikawa’s. From the fluff of blankets you couldn’t tell where one body started or the other ended. 

The last thing he remembered seeing was paint smudged on his forearm. Hajime couldn’t tell from the weak tv light. 

But it looked like dioxazine purple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have chapter 05 completely planned n I just gotta write it out. I was thinking of releasing an early chapter next Sunday but... the quarter ends this week *sweats* so idk, I might surprise myself or not :/
> 
> Next time (probably):  
> -Commence the Bokuaka subplot  
> -Someone give Akaashi a hug  
> -uhm... puppies?  
> -Hajime, well, he's thinking of moving to Mars


	5. Indanthrone Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 80% fluff, 20% light angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi, yes I know this is late, my teachers r torturing me, especially my science teacher giving me 3 hrs of work in a day :') I would've been able to upload this chapter last week if it weren't for her. I'm too emotionally attached to let this go, all I need is some time :)
> 
> And thank you for all of the support so far !! U guys make me so happy and bring a smile to my face all the time :D  
> Also ignore that this is 1.5k words shorter than normal, the next few chapters should make up for that.

**_To: Teru_ **

**_> >(5:36) Hey Hey Teru, I’ll be over in 20 !!_ **

**_From: Teru_ **

**_> >(5:38) River’s waiting ;)_ **

Koutarou chuckled, putting his phone in his locker. He just finished with his last client of the day, and he needed a well deserved shower. 

Taking off his sweat soaked clothes, and wrapping a towel around himself he headed towards the showers. He couldn’t take too long since he had to head over to Terushima’s. Quickly slipping into a stall he turned the water on, keeping it a little cooler. 

He’d be adopting River today. 

The thought made Koutarou smile as he washed his hair. It was one of his life goals to adopt a pet. He was financially stable, his friends supported him, and the landlord allowed pets.

It was like the universe wanted him to get a small bundle of fluff. And he was in no position to disagree.

Terushima was a dog breeder suggested by one of his clients. A quick ring and a few hours later he met him over coffee. Koutarou learned that his parents had owned a pet shop, and shelter. Taking care of animals since his childhood led to where he was now. 

River was slightly smaller than his siblings, and stood out because of his fur. The pup was a deep honey color, like he was bathed in gold. Unlike his siblings who were closer to light brown, and crème. 

It was love at first sight.

 _I wonder if Akaashi likes dogs,_ wait, he shouldn’t be thinking of him right now. Koutarou’s barely even known Akaashi, well alone even talk to him. 

Hell, he hasn’t even heard Akaashi _talk._ And yet Koutarou was still mesmerized. Those soft curls, pale skin, plush lips. It was like he was in a dream. 

The soft blush dusting his cheeks when Koutarou embarrassed himself. He was… extraordinary. He wanted to know more about Akaashi. His voice, his laugh, if he liked owls, if holding his hand would be just like he imagined, or better.

His hands looked delicate while holding the teacup. Those hands… delicate…maybe wrapped around his-

 _Shit,_ he was hard now. For the _third_ time since he last saw Akaashi. Okay, so Koutarou may be head over heels for him. How could you not? But he didn’t have time.

He turned the water colder, hoping it would calm him down. Grabbing the soap he started lathering himself in foam, going over the mental checklist in his head. He already bought a bed, leash, collar, food, a few toys, feeding bowls. Yeah, he should be set.

As he finished rinsing himself off, his boner finally decided to calm down enough for Koutarou to step out of the showers. Drying himself off he walked over to the lockers.

Quickly changing into some clothes he checked the time. _5:50 pm,_ he still had 10 minutes to get there. Checking that he had his car keys Koutarou said goodbye to the staff as he exited the gym.

As he drove Koutarou let the thought really sink in. He’d be adopting River today. _He’s adopting River today._

A small golden retriever will be running through his apartment daily. Waking him up in the morning. Barking happily when he came home. And just the presence of the pup is enough to make Koutarou smile. 

His brow furrowed. _But the responsibilities._ Remembering to walk him, feed him, take him to the vet. He’s also adopting a _puppy,_ River would grow. What if his apartment is too small? How would he take care of him if he lost his job?

Shaking the thoughts from his head he was reminded of his friends supporting him. They would help him if he needed it. He could rely on them. 

Arriving at Terushima’s house he unbuckled himself and walked to the front door. Koutarou heard barking from inside. One of the dogs must’ve seen him. 

The door opened before he could ring the doorbell. A woman was in front of him. He’s never met her before. At her feet were 4 small golden retrievers, all looking up at his in excitement, wagging their tails.

“Hi! I’m Bokuto, I’m here for Terushima?”

They lit up, “Oh hello, I’m Misaki Hana, It’s finally nice to meet you.” Misaki held out her hand.

Koutarou shook it asking, “Sorry for being rude but I’ve never seen you here.”

“I’m pretty busy being a vet and all.” She laughed. “I’m Terushima’s girlfriend.”

He nodded his head in understanding. Misaki let him in, the pups immediately following him around as he took off his shoes. 

“Bokkun!” He heard Terushima call from the top of the stairs. He waved seeing River held in his arms. The pup perked up upon hearing his name. 

River started barking, trying to get out of Terushima’s grip. “Woah buddy, slow down.” Terushima laughed along with Koutarou and Misaki. 

The other 4 dogs went to greet their brother. Terushima came down the stairs kissing the top of Misaki’s head. “I’m sorry I never introduced you guys, just never got the chance.”

Koutarou waved away the apology, jumpy from excitement. They were all looking at the pups playing with each other. River stood out the most. He called out to him, “River!”

The dog in mention automatically came to him. Crouching down he ruffled his soft fur. “Are you ready for a new home?” he asked.

River barked happily causing Koutarou to smile warmly. He felt Terushima put a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to look at him. “Are _you_ ready?”

Misaki was playing with the other 4 pups. He looked back at River who was sitting obediently, tail wagging back and front across the floor.

This has been one of Koutarou’s goals ever since he was little. And now he could achieve it. Yes, he was ready. He’d take on the challenge and succeed. 

He nodded his head without looking away from River. He heard Terushima chuckle behind him. 

“It’s time Yuuji.” Said Misaki, standing up. She walked over to them talking Terushima’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. 

He nodded, leaning down to scratch behind River’s ears, who nuzzled into his hand. His hand never letting go of Misaki’s. Terushima glanced at Koutarou, whispering as a tear rolled down his cheek, “Take good care of him Bokkun.”

“I will.”

* * *

“Tsumu-chan!” 

_“Hey Oikawa, what’s up?”_

“Well you know that in three weeks-”

 _“I’lready bought the tickets, 'n Omi’s comin, don’t worry.”_ He heard Atsumu chuckle.

Ah, of course Atsumu knew. If it wasn’t for Tooru constantly bickering him to the point Atsumu blocked him for 10 minutes before he _unblocked_ him because Tooru cried to Sakusa. What could he say, these galleries were important to him.

Tooru hummed, tapping his fingers on his desk, “What about coach?”

 _“When are ya free?”_ Atsumu asked.

 _Yes._ He could already feel the excitement rushing through his veins. “You have practice on Tuesday’s, correct?” he didn’t let Atsumu answer, “Of course I’m right, then I’ll be there next week Tuesday.”

He could practically see Atsumu rolling his eyes, but he’d be smiling too. Tooru heard a _pomf_ from the other side and the sound of sheets moving. _“20 dollars that Ima serve better than ya.”_

Tooru smirked, “Your on, but the winner is already obvious.”

_“Me, clearly.”_

“Keep dreaming Tsumu-chan, the results from last time, _and the time before,_ show that I will always be on top.”

Tooru could hear Atsumu grinning, _“We’ll see about that.”_

He heard the line click. A buzz now coming from his phone. Tooru flopped back against his chair with a huff.

He glances at the closet door on the other side of the room. He could take his volleyball out. It was just sitting on the floor waiting to be used again. But he’d take it out when he was ready. Besides, playing with other people was more fun. 

He wonders if Iwaizumi played volleyball too. Maybe a wing spiker from the look of him. He’d be putting those arms to good use. 

Tooru felt his knee twitch. If only he hadn’t _overworked_ the damn joint. The one thing that took his future career away. 

No point in thinking about it now. 

Looking up at his window he saw droplets on the glass. The clouds were a deep gray meaning a rainshower was coming. _Great._

Studying in the living room sounds nice. Iwaizumi was probably there also. He’d have company to distract him from the gloomy weather.

Gathering his books and laptop, Tooru headed out of his room to see Iwaizumi drawing on the couch. He’s never been able to see what he draws, only small glimpses. And he’s never asked. “Hey Iwa-chan,”

Iwaizumi grunted in response. Tooru placed his stuff on the coffee table sitting on the floor across from Iwaizumi. 

No words were spoken between them. Only the sound of pencil scratching paper, and keys being typed. 

As time passed Tooru was now laying on his stomach typing away on his laptop. Iwaizumi migrated from the couch to the floor, sketchbook on the table.

He didn’t notice when Iwaizumi got up until something was waved in front of his face. “Here, you need a break.”

Tooru grabbed the beer bottle before Iwaizumi accidentally smacked him in the face. He thanked him, opening the cap. 

Iwaizumi’s been making sure Tooru had been taking breaks as of late. Knocking on his door, or somehow distracting him (mostly with food) to get him to stop working. It was a nice gesture, but it was annoying because it always diverted his attention from studying.

 _But_ , he had been working for a while, the only break he took was talking to Atsumu for a short while. So Tooru guessed that he deserved one for now. 

He took a sip savoring the way the cold liquid refreshed his throat. Iwaizumi also had an identical bottle in hand. _Ah, about talking with Atsumu,_ “Do you know the art gallery that’s coming up in about three weeks?”

Iwaizumi stiffened before he let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, are you going too?”

“Mhm, Tsumu-chan, Omi-chan, and Aka-chan always come with me,” he hummed. It was pretty much tradition by now. He blinked, _Wait did he just say ‘too’?_ “Iwa-chan’s also going?”

“That’s too many ‘chan’s’ in one sentence.” Iwaizumi shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “And yes, I go every time though I’ve never seen you guys there.”

“I mean the place _is_ pretty big.” Iwaizumi agreed with him. 

Oh, Tooru had an idea! “Why don’t you come with us then?” Iwaizumi blinked at him, lips setting into a thin line. 

He avoided Tooru’s gaze as he said, “Ah um, I’m gonna be busy on that day so I won’t be able to meet up,” Taking a sip from his beer he continued, “But we’ll see each other for sure.”

Tooru could take that answer for now. He was halfway done with his bottle and he’s already starting to feel the effects. Not enough to get full on drunk, but a light buzz. His body starting to feel warm.

His gaze caught on the sketchbook lying on the table. “Can I see your drawings?” Tooru asked.

“Yeah, come over here.” Tooru moved to sit next to Iwaizumi, setting his bottle on the table. He has yet to see Iwaizumi’s paintings (because he’s been prohibited from entering his studio) So he’d take any chance to see his sketches. 

He took the papers looking through them as Iwaizumi waited leaning back against the couch. Eyes closed, slowly sipping his drink.

Honestly what did Tooru expect? If what he saw in that smaller sketchbook (the one he has yet to return) was anything to go by. Then this was 100 times better. 

Intricate sketches filled the book, small notes scattered around the pages, some with hints of color, most just pencil. Every line looks like it was meant to be there. There were sketches with simple, quick lines while others hold complex yet effortless shading.

The current one Iwaizumi was working on was of a small apartment balcony, similar to the one they have. It was covered in plants and flowers flowing from pots hung on the ceiling. A few flower pots scattered the floor. The vines winding through the leaves and petals, all coming together to create a beautiful scene. It was almost like he could smell the fresh petals, and the earthy vines. 

Tooru leaned back against the couch similar to Iwaizumi. Still wide eyed and looking at the drawings with fascination. He didn’t notice Iwaizumi glancing at him from the corner of his eye. 

“These,” Tooru blinked coming to his senses, finally looking towards Iwaizumi with starry eyes, “These are beautiful Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi ducked his head, but Tooru saw the tips of his ears red. Tooru placed the sketchbook back into the table and finished his beer. He lightly knocked his shoulder again Iwaizumi’s. “Awww, is Iwa-chan flustered.” He cooed.

“Shut up Asskawa.”

“Your right, I do have a nice ass.”

Iwaizumi buried his face in his hands, “Oh my go-”

“X-files!” Yelled Tooru before Iwaizumi could insult him. He moved to the couch laying on his stomach grabbing the remote on the side table.

Iwaizumi lifted his head glaring at Tooru, “I thought it was _my_ turn to pick.”

“Now now Iwa-chan, we watched that monster movie last week, it’s my turn.” Tooru scrolled through the recommendations as fast as he could before Iwaizumi actually proved him wrong.

He scowled as he thought, “Wait but didn’t-”

“Be quiet Iwa-chan it’s starting.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but closed his mouth.

Was this Tooru’s 10th time rewatching this show? Yes.

Did that matter? Of course not. It always intrigued him every time.

As they were watching Tooru noticed Iwaizumi’s phone vibrating. _Okaasan_ lit up the screen. _5 miss calls?!_

Tooru took the phone and nudged Iwaizumi with it to get his attention. He whispered, “Your Okaasan is calling.”

Iwaizumi grimaced, but took the phone from Tooru’s hand. He silenced the call and laid it face down on the table. _Why didn’t he answer?_

He would’ve paused the show to ask but Dana captured his attention. He’ll just ask later. They grew sleepy after the first few episodes, but couldn’t keep their eyes off the screen. 

Tooru's hand somehow started threading through Iwaizumi’s hair. Maybe for comfort, since Iwaizumi seemed uneasy. Or maybe because Tooru’s been wanting to run his fingers through it for some time. He’d say the former, but he knew that wouldn’t be fully true. 

The latter didn’t swat his hand away so Tooru kept it there. 

It was soft, slightly rough, _I should buy him some hair products._ But the feel of the strands between his fingers eventually lulled him to sleep along with Fox Mulder explaining something in the background. 

Hajime felt slender fingers run through his hair. It felt nice, and he slightly leaned into the touch. He was too tired to comprehend what he was doing. Neither did Hajime care. 

He actually kind of liked it. 

* * *

The clock read _11:38 pm._ He should stop studying and go to sleep. He had a class tomorrow afternoon. But he was still working on the assignment due tonight. 

Coffee. Coffee sounds nice. He needs to stay awake, the time he uses to sleep can be used to finish his work.

 _Shit,_ he ran out of coffee a few days ago. He could go to the grocery, but the café down the street was closer. And for some reason still open. 

Keiji’s been studying for almost 3 hours, no breaks, he supposes that he could take one now.

He’ll just go in the clothes he was already wearing. He didn’t think of changing after coming back to the apartment. His brain already wired to start his assignments automatically.. 

Had he eaten dinner? _Yes, I have._ He took a small break to make himself something. The habit stuck even after Tooru left. 

Before, Keiji barely ate dinner. Always using college as an excuse. But once Tooru moved in, Keiji had to make sure he was taking care of himself. Which in turn made both of them take care of each other. 

Taking off his glasses, he got up grabbing his phone and wallet. Walking out and putting on his shoes he saw the door unlocked. _Ah, I forgot._ Tooru won’t be coming here after his workshops anymore. 

He always forgot his keys so Keiji would leave the door open so he didn’t have to deal with him continuously ringing the doorbell. _I have to bring my keys._

Grabbing his coat he left. It was getting chilly outside. Fall was gradually turning into winter. Keiji could see the first signs of frost on car windows from the leftover rain. The cold air made his face flush and his breath fog.

He’d have to get his heater fixed soon. The damn thing broke down during the summer, and he hadn’t even noticed. Keiji couldn’t keep wearing 2 hoodies at the same time while wrapped in a robe, when sleeping. He was getting tired of being a tangle of limbs and clothing when he woke up.

The lights were still on when he arrived at the café. He never understood why someone would stay open so late, but he was grateful that they were. 

The scent of coffee immediately filled his senses upon entering. The shop was filled with wooden accents, making it seem like he entered a cabin of sorts. There was a lone person leaning on the counter scrolling through their phone. 

Pale green eyes met him. The man straightened, facing Keiji. “What can I get for you.” his voice was monotone. He looked bored. 

Keiji ordered a cappuccino with an extra shot. The person’s hair was shaped like a pointed onigiri making him chuckle. The barista raised his brow at him but didn’t ask. He took a seat in a booth next to the glass wall staring at the sky.

He couldn’t see many stars due to the streetlights. The night wasn’t black, instead a deep, deep blue bordering indigo.

Tooru told him about it once. When he was drabbling about space and aliens. There was a color he used to describe it. Keiji couldn’t pinpoint the word. 

Someone passed by the window. White-grey hair spiked up into that ridiculously handsome style. _That was Bokuto._ Maybe Keiji should grab his coffee and run up to him. Try to strike conversation. 

Yes, he will. And he was about to go to the counter until, oh, someone was with him. He could only see the back of their heads now. The person with Bokuto had an undercut, and dyed blonde hair. Almost like Miya’s hair but shorter. 

They turned their head to the side and Keiji caught a glimpse of the man’s face. He was striking, to say the least. Handsome, he seemed rugged but with a soft aura. 

Bokuto laid an arm across the man’s shoulders, leaning in.

Keiji looked away. He didn’t need to peer into a (supposedly) intimate moment. 

He was brought back to the moment when they met. Or _saw_ each other. Was the whole thing a joke? Just a bit of humor to make everyone laugh? He was certain that Miya had a great time. Was Keiji the last person to help Bokuto realize his feelings for someone else?

Keiji knew he was good looking. Everyone told him. Including Tooru. But he was boring. Nothing about him was interesting. And he was okay with that. 

He’d be happy for them. Besides, he’s barely even seen Bokuto. Yet, he can’t help wondering what it would feel like to be the man beside him instead. 

“Your drink is ready.” The voice shaking Keiji out of his thoughts. 

The barista set his cappuccino on the table. Saying thank you the person went back to the counter.

Slowly sipping his drink he looked out the window again. The sky was so vast, filled with magical wonders. But it also seemed lonely. It reminded him of the place between hopeless romantic and strong independent individual. 

Cherishing your platonic relationships and not wanting more. Having an idea in the middle of the night wanting to share it with someone else before you forgot. A romantic song playing and slow dancing by yourself trying to make the ache in your chest go away. Rolling to the cold side of the bed when the morning sun shines on your face. Buying yourself chocolate on Valentine’s day. That thought of _what if I meet someone special today._ And coming back alone feeling bittersweet comfort as you conclude that you weren’t ready anyway. The warm feeling of someone holding you in a dream then waking up alone. Being touch starved but avoiding physical affection. The feeling of missing someone you have no idea about. Wanting… yearning... for someone. Always out of reach. You can barely hold on. But somehow you never fall. 

It’s beautiful things making you a little sad. It’s not fully understanding yourself but knowing that you are the only one who can handle you at your worst.

It’s looking up at the sky and hurting. 

_Ah,_ Keiji remembered, _Tooru called it indanthrone blue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi's part was inspired by @/theparistimes post on tumblr !! They deserve the credit because they wrote it beautifully, and everyone who added to it :) we see that in Akaashi's part that Oikawa is called Tooru even though it's not his pov. That's because of the bond they share and Keiji calls him Tooru anyways. 
> 
> Also !! I don't intend to write smut, that'll be saved for another fic. (but it will be mentioned/implied hence the 'mature' rating)
> 
> Next time (11/29)  
> \- I have no fucking idea lmao (I promise I'm not just writing this as I go, I just never properly planned chapter 6 and moved straight to planning chapter 7)  
> -milk bread always reminds me of Seafoam Teal


	6. Seafoam Teal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Atsumu’s eyes weren’t on the ball. They were staring right at him. Wide with fear.
> 
> (Manga spoilers start here so beware :))
> 
> +
> 
> DaiSuga check-up and lots of fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is late don't attack me, *sad wii noises*
> 
> This isn't edited because I can't brain anymore. So apologies for any weird sentences or typos.   
> it's cram month (the 3 1/2 weeks between thanksgiving break and Christmas break) So I probably won't be updating normally until new years. But I'm trying, rlly, rlly, trying for you guys, and myself. So hang with me yea?
> 
> Alright it's 12 am and I have school tmrw, so while your reading I'll be sleeping. Enjoy !!

30 minutes in, a very faint throb in his right knee. Tooru chose to ignore it. 

1 hour in, the pain was growing. He was used to it in high school, he’d be fine. Tooru chose to ignore it.

“Oikawa-san? Are you ok? Your serve was a bit softer than usual.” Shoyo was in front of him during a small interlude. Concern written all over his face. He always did show his emotions on his sleeve.

“Of course the great Oikawa-san is fine, no need to worry Shoyo.” He said with an air of nonchalance, brushing his hair away from his face. Though he did feel his knee twitch, the smug grin never broke. Tooru was  _ fine. _

An hour later, he took a break. Only for a quick 10 minutes. The throbbing was now a slight pound, replicating his heartbeat.  _ Badum, badum, badum... _ Tooru chose to ignore it.

It’s been 3 hours, he only had to get through another 30 minutes. He didn’t want to stop. The adrenaline was rushing through him, he missed this. A volleyball between his fingers, manipulating his opponents mind to his liking. 

It was his turn to serve. On the other side of the net was Meian, Atsumu, and Hinata. 

He’d be targeting Atsumu of course. Out of the three he was the weakest receiver. Not that Tooru minded, it made his part easier.

Third round, set point, 25-26. One more point. 

He  _ needed  _ to get this service ace. His knee was drumming.  _ One more point.  _

Tooru walked behind the end line, spinning the volleyball between his hands. Facing the court he tossed the ball high into the air.  _ Perfect.  _ His legs moved, jumping up. Higher than he’d ever gone before. 

He was back at the spring interhighs, gaining that last point for his team for the ticket to nationals. His jersey a bright contrast from everyone else.

What could he say? Tooru liked being the center of attention.

His palm hit the ball, with the amount of force he’d stored up for this one moment. It went flying down to the court. His leg twisted as he landed. 

He saw Atsumu stepping towards it on instinct. Just a second too slow. Barely skimming his fingers. The ball smashing down on the other side of the court. The deafening noise shunning everyone. 

Every. Single. Time. His serves were nothing to laugh about. They were powerful, and made him in control. He grinned.

He got the point.  _ Tooru got the point.  _ They won. Tooru, Sakusa, and Tomas  _ won. _

But Atsumu’s eyes weren’t on the ball. They were staring right at him. Wide with fear.

The court was silent, but it was deafening. Weighing down on him. Why wasn’t everyone cheering him on?  _ He won.  _ They should be congratulating him, smiling, and lifting him up. Spinning him around till he was out of breath from laughter.

He wanted to clap their hands, shout cries of joy, but  _ he couldn’t stand.  _ And instead of cries of joy they were whimpers of pain.

His eyebrows scrunched together.  _ Oh.  _

“‘KAWA!” He heard Atsumu shouting, no screaming _.  _ That’s when it washed over him, the sense of victory was gone, replaced with aching paining shooting up his leg. 

He winced, lying on his side, curling into a ball. He heard people shouting, Coach Foster ran up to him as Atsumu cradled Tooru’s head on his lap. “Oikawa,  _ Tooru _ , can ya hear me,” He saw Atsumu looking down at him with tear filled eyes, begging for an answer.

He couldn’t see Sakusa behind them, comfortingly rubbing Atsumu’s back in an attempt to calm him down.

Tooru grunted in response, trying to lift himself up. Coach immediately put his hand on his shoulder forcing him back down. “Stay down.” he commanded, “Sakusa.”

Sakusa nodded, and headed to the locker rooms. Everyone was surrounding him, looking down at him with something between pity and sympathy. Tooru hated it, being looked down upon. 

He hid his face in Atsumu’s stomach to be relieved of those piercing stares. “Scat.” Tooru heard Atsumu growl under his breath, a touch of forcefulness implied. 

His teammates took the hint and left towards the benches, sitting down and drinking from bottles. All facing away to give them some privacy. 

Coach was calling someone, maybe a medic, or an ambulance. Tooru didn’t want to go to the hospital. He didn’t want to relive his nightmare again.

“My Oneesan is coming, she’s a medic, and don’t worry you won’t be going to the hospital.”

Tooru sighed in relief. Coach continued, “Why didn’t you stop? Oikawa you know what happens when-”

“Coach.” Atsumu interrupted. Foster pursed his lips, and turned to the gym doors. 

Sakusa came back with his brace, wearing a pair of black gloves. Tooru only used his older one, but considering the circumstances he let Sakusa wrap his knee.

The newer brace was tighter, it eased the pain slightly. Sakusa’s hands barely ghosted his skin, causing him to shiver. 

Atsumu murmured words of encouragement stroking Tooru’s hair away from his sweaty face. 

Sakusa stayed kneeling beside Atsumu, hand on his shoulder. Somehow a mask appeared in his hands, and he put it on. 

Tooru wanted to go home, back to his bed, with alien themed comforters. He wanted Akaashi.

He wanted his Mama.

“I’m takin’ ya home after this.”

_ Home.  _ Tooru wanted to go back  _ home.  _ but he was going back to his apartment. Hopefully Iwaizumi was there so he didn’t have to be lonely.

Over the past few weeks he found Iwaizumi to be a sense of comfort. Conversing like old friends on a summer night. The rain soaked nights filled with movies, and falling asleep tangled together. The trust they’ve slowly been building up. Tooru being able to see Iwaizumi’s sketchbook, as he also made sure to check up on Tooru every now and then. 

He learned that they could rely on each other, and right now he really wanted someone to lean on. 

“I’m here! Sorry for taking so long.” A woman with light brown hair came rushing through the doors.

Foster led her over to Tooru, telling her the situation. She kept sparing glanced at Tooru, most likely assessing him. The lady came over and bent down on her knees carefully examining his knee as she introduced herself, “Hello Oikawa-san, I’m Aia, Samson’s oneesan. I’m a nurse at the hospital a few blocks down.”

Aia looked at him with concern, “Your lucky I was around or else you would’ve had to go to the ER.”

Tooru winced, expression pinched. Just thinking about hospitals made him queasy. The smell of antiseptics, the  _ disgustingly terrible  _ food, and the memories.

“When I push down does it hurt?” She started lightly pressing around his knee. Tooru immediately tensed up, nodding his head. He was afraid to speak lest he cry instead of words.

Aia resumed, “How long since the pain started?”

Tooru saw Atsumu and Coach staring at him, waiting for an answer. He looked down in order to avoid their gazes. He whispered, “2 and a half hours.”

He knew Atsumu heard him from the quiet gasp that escaped. Coach lifted his eyebrow in question, but didn’t speak. Sauksa continued to rub Atsumu’s back, oblivious to the conversation they are having. Focusing only on comforting his boyfriend. 

Aia sent him a disappointing gaze. “Can you walk? Or at least stand?”

Tooru tried to get up from Atsumu’s lap, but the grip around his arms stopped him. “Tsumu-chan you need to let go.”

He felt the hands loosen but still holding him. Atsumu stood up helping Tooru stand. Sakusa followed them up. 

Tooru was a little wobbly at first, putting most of his weight on his left leg. But after a few moments he was able to stand up properly.

Lifting his leg to take a step, trying to ignore the pain shooting up his leg. He made it a few steps before heavily leaning against Atsumu once again. The latter murmured about how good he did, and that he’ll get better soon. 

Aia examined his knee again, sensing that nothing was in need of urgent medical care, she stood up. Brushing off her clothes she said, “There seems to be no serious injury. Take it easy for a few days. If it’s still aching go to the doctor.”

She took out a business card from her front pocket. “If you need to contact me my number is on here.”

Tooru thanked her and she left saying her goodbyes to everyone. 

Atsumu helped him to the bench as Sakusa grabbed two water bottles. The team moved over to make room for them.

Tooru saw Shoyo sending him worried glances. He took the water bottle Sauksa handed him, and let Meian sling a towel over his neck. Taking big gulps to refresh himself. 

Shoyo got up from his spot on the bench and stood in front of Tooru. His hands were clenched at his sides, and his eyes downcast. The whole team was staring at him in confusion. Atsumu asked, “Shoyo-kun?”

At the mention of his name he sank down to his knees. He gripped Tooru’s knees, and apologized profusely. “I’m sorry Oikawa-san, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I should’ve known when I asked you and-” He broke out into a sob making Tooru flinch. “-I should’ve told you to take a longer break, and, and-”

His knee tensed up from the pressure of Shoyo’s hand. He felt it and immediately removed his hands, placing them on the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

The team was now looking at him shocked.

This scene reminded him too much of his Mama, kneeled in this exact position, sobbing until her throat was run raw. He didn’t need to think back to that now. 

He needed to stop Shoyo before he was sucked back into his thoughts. 

Tooru placed his hand not holding the bottle onto Shoyo’s hair. Brushing it back from his face. He looked up through tear filled eyes. Tooru reassured, “It’s not your fault alright? It was mine because I knew I should’ve taken a break but I didn’t. Don’t blame yourself.” 

_ It’s not your fault… It was mine… Don’t blame yourself.  _

The same phrase, the same words. 

It  _ was  _ Tooru’s fault. Both times. 

He wiped the tears streaming down Shoyo’s cheeks. His teammates came around to comfort him. Patting his back and hair, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. Even Sakusa gave a few pats to his head before pulling away.

Tooru’s eyes began to water, his nose becoming stuffy. No, he didn’t need to cry in front of everyone now. 

He gave them a weak smirk trying to blink back the tears, “And besides, you haven’t seen the last of the Great King.” 

* * *

“Hey ‘Kawa?” Atsumu asked. He wanted answers, and Oikawa was the closest thing he could get to them right now. “Ya know Bokkun right?”

Oikawa grunted, “Bo-chan?,” Atsumu nodded, “Yea, what about him?” Oikawa almost tripped down the stairs if it weren’t for Atsumu holding him.

“By the way he’s already got eye’s for Aka-chan, and Omi-chan would be pretty mad.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes, “Nah actually, he used’ta play for us. He suddenly left ‘n I haven’t been able to get’n contact with him since.” He glanced around to clear a way to the station, “When ya moved in was the first time I saw him again, and I couldn’t even catch ‘im on my way out.”

He knew he sounded sullen, but Bokuto was an amazing addition to the team. He got along with everyone, and setting to him felt like a breath of fresh air. 

When he left, Coach gave no explanation, just said he was done with volleyball, and wouldn’t be coming back. Everyone was confused, and tried contacting him for months but to no avail.

“You never mentioned him.” 

_ I know.  _

“He joined right when ya went on that trip to Rio during yer gap year.” He could feel Oikawa’s eye roll. “I didn’t tell ya ‘bout it cause I was gonna introduce ya guys in person. Surprise of sorts.”

He took a deep breath, “But then he left, and I don’ know. I just chose not to say anythin’. And I could’ve when I saw him again, but. The feeling of him back ‘n his boomin’ voice, and humor. It felt like he never left.”

They were close to the stairway of the station now, a few more meters. The sidewalk was beginning to become more crowded. He needed to drop this conversation quickly. 

“Just ask him for me yeah?”

He knew that Oikawa knew when to drop a topic. Atsumu trusted his answer, though it wasn’t really a confirmation. But he could believe.

“Okay.”

* * *

“Iwa-chan! I'm back and better than ever!” Hajime heard Oikawa shout from the door. But he heard another voice accompanying him.

“Ya dumb idiot,” The voice,  _ Atsumu?  _ Grumbled, “Hey Iwa, make sure he doesn’t put pressure on his knee,” Yes, Atsumu. The duo rounded the corner, one of Oikawa’s arms slung over Atsumu’s shoulder and a duffle bag on his other.

He was now wearing a white and teal uniform with a number 1. Atsumu wore his normal MSBY jersey.

Oikawa wasn’t supposed to come back yet. He left the night before and was going to come back tomorrow afternoon. The train ride to Osaka was a long one, so it made sense. What were they doing here  _ now? _

A knee brace that Hajime’s never seen before was now wrapped against Oikawa’s knee. Standing out against his pale skin. “What happened?!”

Hajime got up to help Oikawa to the couch, carrying part of his weight off Atsumu. He didn’t pay attention to the looks the two of them shared. 

All he knew was that Oikawa was going to play volleyball at MSBY. At first he was shocked, because he would be  _ playing at MSBY.  _ A V. League Division 1 team. So why wasn’t Oikawa playing as a professional?

“Geez Iwa-chan, nothing bad, just tripped wrong and had to come back early.” He saw Atsumu glare at Oikawa from the corner of his eye as he unceremoniously dropped the bag in front of Oikawa’s room.

Atsumu then moved towards the couch in front of them.

Once Oikawa was settled on the couch, Atsumu and Hajime stood over him. Oikawa rolled his eyes, “Now, now. Don’t look at me like that. Go be the good roommate you are and get me an ice pack.”

Now it was Hajime’s turn to roll his eyes. He went to the fridge to get some frozen corn (because he didn’t have an ice pack). 

Atsumu was saying something to Oikawa but he couldn’t hear what was being said.

From Atsumu’s posture it looked like he was disappointed. 

Hajime handed Oikawa the frozen bag to ice his knee. He took off the brace, skin blaring a bright red.

Oikawa sighed when the ice touched his skin. 

“Alright, Ima head to Keiji’s tonight.” Atsumu said as he stretched his arms over his head.

“You could stay here.” Hajime considered.

“Nah, ‘Kawa would talk my ear off instead of let’n me sleep,” Oikawa poked Atsumu hard in the thigh, which he slapped off. “‘Ne ways, station’s is closer to his apartment ‘n I needa get back first thing tomorrow.”

Oikawa pouted, and whined but Atsumu wouldn’t budge, grinning at him. 

Hajime chuckled at the sight, gathering his stuff to put away. Concluding that his night would be spent with Oikawa instead.

They unconsciously started a habit where they would spend time together right before heading to sleep. It was an unsaid rule that studying or working was prohibited. And even if they did, sooner or later it would be forgotten for the other’s company. 

He heard Oikawa through his bedroom door, “Bye Tsumu-chan! Don’t forget who won  _ again.” _

“Shut yer trap!” 

Hajime couldn’t contain the laugh bubbling up as he came out the bedroom just as he heard the click of the lock. Meaning Atsumu must’ve left already. He hid the sound behind his hand as he approached Oikawa. 

Hajime leaned on the arm of the couch looking over at Oikawa. His eyes are closed, and his hair muzzled. “So… What do you want to do?”

It takes Oikawa a few seconds to answer him, his eyes slowly peeling open, squinting through the light. “Uhm,”

He paused, it’s one of those confused pauses where you try to sort through all the thoughts in your head while you're on the verge of falling asleep. 

“I’m...I’m really tired Iwa-chan.” He yawned. His eyes falling shut again. 

The corn must be warm now so Hajime took it off Oikawa’s knee. The latter whined at the loss of weight. 

Hajime went to the fridge to put it away, then came back over. This time Oikawa held out his arms, mumbling, “Iwa-channn…” Another pause, his arms starting to sag down, “Carry me.”

Hajime’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Carry Oikawa? But, he seemed really tired. And this is the first time he asked, it’s not like it wouldn’t happen again. 

Yet he couldn’t fight the small blush that appeared on his face. 

“Okay,” he said as he slipped his arms under Oikawa’s knees (being careful of his injured one) and his upper body. Pulling him up to his chest.

Oikawa instinctively wrapped his arms around Hajime’s neck, nuzzling his face into his neck. 

Hajime prayed that Oikawa couldn’t feel his skin heating up at the contact. Oikawa’s breath tickling his collarbone didn’t make the situation any better. 

“Warm.” He heard Oikawa whisper. Why was he so  _ cute  _ when he was tired? Being all clingy like that. 

Of course he’d been in similar situations with little cousins and such, but this felt different.

And he couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not.

* * *

He was still limping after two days. But Tooru’s knee was starting to feel better. 

Getting to class was a hassle, but with Iwaizumi’s help in the mornings, and bribing Kunimi (with food, and movie tickets to go on a date with Kindaichi) he was able to attend classes and get back to his apartment with little problems.

Tooru still wore his knee brace because Atsumu wouldn’t stop bugging him after the incident. 

_ Thankfully,  _ Atsumu didn’t tell Akaashi. Yet. 

Now he was in the kitchen putting together ingredients to make milk bread. It’s been a while and he needed something to get him through all the extra studying he was doing.

Iwaizumi also kicked him out of his room and told him to take a break before disappearing into his studio. 

So Tooru decided to do some baking. He was sure that he wasn’t as good as Suga, but he liked baking in his free time.

He was humming a tune as he mixed together the dry ingredients, but it was still too quiet. He was tapping his foot along to help ease the tension but it just  _ wasn’t working.  _

He picked up his phone from beside him, the recipe he was using was written on the book in front of him. 

He scrolled through his contacts wondering who to call. 

Atsumu was still at practice, and he already called Tooru this morning. Akaashi was currently taking a test, and he didn’t want his best friend’s phone getting taken away. Bugging Iwaizumi wouldn’t work, and he didn’t want to disturb him. 

_ Ah,  _ he hadn’t called Semi in a while.

Hitting the dial he turned on the speaker and set his phone back down. Semi answered on the fourth ring. 

_ “Hello?” _

“Semi-chan! How is my wonderful kohai?”

He could practically make out Semi rolling his eyes, _ “I’m only a few months younger than you.” _

“Right, right. What are you doing?” He heard shuffling on the other side of the line as he added eggs to the dough. 

_ “Trying to get Shirabu to sleep. He's been running on six hours of sleep for the past two days.” _

He smiled wistfully, that reminded him of himself before moving in with Akaashi. “And how is that going for you?” he said softly.

_ “Failing miserably- NO put the knife down. You're too tired and a shitty cook anyways.” _

Tooru heard a faint response from Shirabu but couldn’t make out the words. He chuckled, adding his milk and yeast mixture to the bowl.  _ “Give me a sec Oikawa.” _

“Don’t waste too much of my precious time.” Tooru used the few seconds to get another egg from the fridge, setting it in a bowl for later use.

_ “Now sit here and read or something before I make you sleep.”  _ He heard another voice enter the conversation.

_ “I’m not slepy...”  _ Tooru was trying not to snicker at Shirabu’s tired voice. He’s never seen him anything except proper, and ready to insult Semi at a moment's notice.

_ “You can’t even talk properly, now shut up,”  _ Scolded Semi. 

“My, my Semi Semi, look who’s becoming a babysitter.” He got a ‘fuck you’ from the other side. 

Kneading the dough between his palms he spoke, “Maybe you should sleep with him so he doesn’t get lonely.” Tooru winked even though Semi wouldn’t see it.

_ “Oh my go- You bratty fucker you’re going to slobber all over my textbook you asshole.” _

_ “M’ not.” _

_ “Go to bed.” _

_ “Not sleepy.”  _ Hey, he said it right this time.

_ “You’ve just spelt ‘cognitive’ as ‘cock’, you had 5 cups of coffee this morning, and you called the professor a dumb whore in front of the whole class because of the shade of lipstick she wears. Also Goshiki almost fainted because you hugged him. You  _ never  _ hug people.”  _ he added as an afterthought,  _ “And you complimented my hair today.” _

Tooru couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. He accidentally punched the dough he was kneading, which made him laugh even more. He heard Semi try to shut him up, but he couldn’t stop his shoulders from shaking.

_ “5 cups of dumb whore?”  _ Shirabu’s response sent Tooru over the edge. He was leaning on the counter trying not to fall as tears welled up in his eyes.  _ “Semi... hug.” _

“O-oh my Semi Semi, looks like you have to give your little baby boy a hug.” He said through laughter. Oh what he would do to get a picture of Semi’s face right now to use later as blackmail. 

_ “St-stop. Get your stick arms off me you bitch,” _

“Your bitch.”

_ “Oikawa I swear to- Oof.”  _ He heard a thump, they probably fell on top of each other. Geez he really wanted to record everything going on right now.

He heard rustling before Semi gave a sigh of defeat,  _ “Time for bed.” _

_ “No sleepy.” _

_ “Yeah yeah whatever. Sorry Oikawa, Semi out.” _

Tooru snorted, saying a quick goodbye before ending the call after several tries of containing himself. Well he hoped they were having fun. 

He rolled the dough into three pieces carefully shaping them before placing them onto a lightly greased loaf pan. 

Strangely enough the pan was a bright teal instead of the usual silver metal. He had to dig through the cabinets to find it after Iwaizumi denied helping him. 

After putting the dough in the preheated oven he set a timer and went to his room to get a pair of earbuds.

Immersing himself in music felt right in that moment. And he wanted to listen to Semi’s new song he was working on. Somehow by some miracle, he was able to download it onto his phone before Semi saw him at the workshop.

He also decided to bring his tablet out, along with his stylus. It’s been a while since Tooru drew digitally, and he wanted to remember the feeling again. 

Setting down the technology on the coffee table to re-entered the kitchen to get himself a latte. 

He took the handmade mug Iwaizumi made him out of the cabinet. Carefully as to not break it. The black and gold porcelain looked so delicate that it could break away in the wind. 

Tooru treasured it preciously, and used it as much as he could. Knowing that Iwaizumi must’ve worked hard on it. 

Turning on the espresso machine he turned to the fridge grabbing some milk, and creamer.

Once the espresso was done, he poured in the creamer and quickly frothed some milk with an electric hand whisk, making sure not to spill it over the sides of the cup. 

He brought the drink over to the living room and settled down, taking a quick sip of his drink to ensure that it tasted alright. 

Unlocking the tablet he set it on his lap balancing it between his calves. 

He’s been working on a personal project for a while now. Planning to design an apartment complex. He’s only been getting the basic sketches done so far. Already having a color palette, and sizing. 

Though it would take much more work for his dream to become a reality. And he wasn’t quite there yet. Tooru knew that he couldn’t do this on his own, but he doesn’t know who to rely on. What kind of  _ team  _ to form.

He was absorbed into his mind yet again. This time with ideas, and notes instead of the aggravating buzz. But something was nagging the back of his mind.

The tick of the timer running in the background.

_ Tick, tick, tick.  _

Winding Tooru up, tension growing in his shoulders waiting for the ding. He was too aware of his surroundings, barely focusing on the lines in front of him.

He turned the timer off.

Choosing to set an alarm instead. 

He sat in front of the couch when he got back, placing his tablet on the table. His left leg bobbing as he continued his sketch. 

* * *

Just a tad bit more lemon juice and he’d be finished. 

It was Koushi’s day off, meaning the bakery was closed. 

He decided to make some jam since him and Daichi were running out. They always ran out of strawberry jam the fastest.

Setting out a glass jar, he whisked the concoction adding a dash of nutmeg (his secret ingredient) before setting it into the fridge to cool a little.

Koushi moved to cleaning the kitchen. The space was wide enough that he didn’t have to worry about breaking anything.

_ Ah, Daichi should be home soon.  _

Daichi still worked on Saturday’s, but he did come home earlier than his normal schedule allowed him too. 

As he took a sponge to start washing the dishes he went over his mental checklist. The scent of strawberries still hasn’t faded even with the window cracked open. 

He still had to make pie for Kenma. (He made him one every month). Yachi was new, so he’d have to train her. Though she does already have some experience from Kiyoko. One of his business partners. Koushi also had a new pie crust recipe he wanted to try. 

Of course all of his other attempts were wonderful, and everyone enjoyed it. But it was still missing something, and Koushi believed that this recipe was going to be the cherry on his sundae.

He put the last of the dishes away wondering what was going to be for dinner. Koushi was better at baking, but he still liked to cook and with Daichi nonetheless.

He took out the room temperature jam from the fridge. Giving a quick whiz with a spatula to loosen the mixture. Pouring it into the jar until it was filled to the top. 

Ah, he still had some left over. (A bad habit of his). He didn’t want to waste it. So he settled on finding a smaller jar to store it in.

Maybe he’d give it to Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

Koushi knew that Iwaizumi wasn’t the biggest fan of jams, and fruity desserts. But maybe Oikawa was into those. 

And well, if not then he can always give it to Bokuto or Kuroo.

“Hey Love,” A deep voice came from the doorway. “Woah, it’s chilly in here.”

“I decided to bring the fall weather inside.” Koushi placed a small jar on the countertop and went over to Daichi, who was hanging up his coat. “How was work?”

“A dream.” Daichi said before pulling Koushi into a light kiss which he returned. Then kissing the mole under his eye. “Though Tanaka almost broke Chikara’s arm.”

Koushi giggled as he slipped out of Daichi’s hold to finish packing the jam. “I made jam.” He said with a bright smile.

Daichi set down his keys and phone on the breakfast bar before rounding the corner hugging Koushi from behind. Hooking his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulder. Koushi dipped a finger into the jam bringing it up to Daichi.

He licked it off his finger humming with satisfaction. “I made some extra to give to Oikawa.”

“What’s for dinner.” Daichi said, completely ignore Koushi’s statement before. Dragging his fingertips up and down Koushi’s sides lightly. Causing him to squirm.

Once he finished pouring the jam he covered the jars with lids, thinking. He was in the mood for something carb-y.  _ Pasta!  _

It didn’t take much time, and Daichi seemed a bit more tired, Koushi already decided that he’d be cooking tonight. “How do you feel about pasta?”

Daichi nuzzled his hair, a sign for ‘yes’. The fingers resting on his sides started to move faster, causing Koushi to let out a laugh. “Daichi! Stop that!” he squealed.

Koushi escaped into a run around the apartment, keeping his steps light. Daichi followed right behind him. 

Running around the coffee table, slipping out of the small space between their plant and armchair. Daichi’s fingers barely brushing the back of his shirt. He ran in the hallway to their shared bedroom, hopping on the bed. 

Daichi stood in the doorway watching him with predatory eyes. It was pretty easy to provoke him when he was like this. 

“Catch me if you can~”

(In the end, Suga won. Not surprisingly since Daichi always kept his arms out where Suga could poke him in the ribs till Daichi was begging him to stop so he could breathe. And from the vacuum noises that Bokuto always did when they were stomping too loud.)

* * *

Did Tooru impulsively buy a bicycle in the last 5 minutes?

Even though his knee still wasn’t fully healed?

Yes. Obviously.

Now he was walking to his apartment, head raised high at his newest purchase. Basking himself in the semi-decent weather. 

Did he also buy a companion seat? Absolutely. Now the only problem was convincing Iwaizumi to join him. Well, he’d be agreeing no matter what. Tooru would make sure of that. 

He made an earlier stop at a restaurant to get some Agedashi tofu. (He only knew it was Iwaizumi’s favorite food from Daichi, always bringing some over.) The bag hung off one of the bike handles, lightly swinging from side to side.

As he neared the complex a faint scent of strawberry wafted through the air. 

Maybe someone was baking something. Ah, that reminded him to ask for strawberry jam next time Iwaizumi went grocery shopping. And chili oil, since he always forgot.

He took the bike inside earning himself a few stares from people. 

Obviously he could’ve just locked it at the bike rack, but he needed Iwaizumi to understand the importance of biking. Aka taking Tooru on a bike ride because he was bored.

Gladly there was no one in the elevator, and the bike fit comfortably. As the door opened, Bokuto entered with River.

“Hey hey Oikawa!” He looked enthusiastic. River barked happily beside him, trying to nuzzle his leg.

“Bo-chan! River, come here boy." Tooru pet the puppy, running his hands through his soft fur.

Bokuto peered at the bike through squinted eyes. “Why do you have a bicycle?”

Tooru chuckled, “Iwa-chan’s going to take me on a ride.” He took the takeout bag from the handle putting it on the seat so River couldn’t claw through it.

Bokuto gave a hearty laugh, “Good luck with that.”

The elevator opened to his floor. Slowly, Tooru guided the bike through the hallway, trying not to bump into the walls. Thankfully no one was in the way to question him. Once he got to his door he pushed in the key, turning it and opening the door.

With a slight heave Tooru brought in the bicycle. He looked around the corner spotting Iwaizumi doing something on the couch. The TV playing a random show. Leaning the bicycles against the wall out of view he rounded the corner. Leaning against the wall he greeted, “Iwa-chan, I’m back.”

“Hey Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said without lifting his gaze. Suddenly he perked up slightly, turning his head towards Tooru, gaze still concentrated somewhere else. “Did you get takeout?”

Tooru hummed, grabbing the bag of tofu. Iwaizumi looked up, eyes widening with excitement. Tooru let out a soft laugh, Iwaizumi reminding him of River. “It’s all yours, but you have to do something with me.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, gears in his head turning. This was easier than Tooru thought, honestly. Skeptically he asked, “What are we doing?”

_ Well, shit.  _ Tooru expected him to outright agree, and he’d have his way. He put the bag on the ground, grabbing the bike handles and slowly bringing it into view. A sheepish smile playing on Tooru lips. 

“I’m not letting you ride that.” Iwaizumi said sternly.

“That’s why I got a companion seat.”

Iwaizumi sent him a deadpan stare, “You want me to give you a bike ride.”

Tooru took one of his hands off to grab the takeout, swinging it in the air, smirking. He could see Iwaizumi’s will slowly bleeding out. Until he pursed his lips and said, “Fine.” 

Tooru cheers, squealing until Iwaizumi tells him to shut up. He put the bag in the fridge, and waited for Iwaizumi to put on his shoes. He was jittery from excitement. “I should bribe you more often.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go Crappykawa.”

“Mean Iwa-chan!”

There weren't many pedestrians roaming to streets, so Hajime took that as a chance to up their pace.

They were riding steadily through the city, the sun was shining through holes given by the clouds. Slight wind washing their faces. Different scents, motor gas, newspaper, tobacco, and food. 

One of Oikawa’s arms securely wrapped around Hajime’s waist so he wouldn’t fall. A warm presence against the chill of the day. 

They’ve been biking for almost 20 minutes now, sometimes coming back to spots they’ve already seen and exploring new destinations.

Oikawa pointed out different conbinis, ramen shops, and restaurants that they should try. Eagerly pointing to a space exhibit, poking Hajime until he finally agreed to take him one day.

_ Why not go with someone else? _

Hajime endures through it all, mostly enjoying the decent weather. He did keep a few places in mind when Oikawa mentioned him. Especially the space exhibit. Hearing his voice talk so passionately, he couldn’t  _ not  _ take Oikawa one day. 

Maybe his birthday. 

“Iwa-chan, let’s go to the park.” Hajime obliged. 

The scenery was beautiful, big maple trees with bright warm colored leaves surrounded them. A few leaves occasionally falling from their branches. 

Autumn was always one of Hajime’s favorite seasons. The warm drinks, colorful plants, everything getting ready to rest, and relax for the winter coming.

Oikawa was making noises of astonishment, like a baby cooing at a toy. 

Oh, Hajime absolutely  _ had  _ to show him the wisteria tree. He sped up a bit more, making Oikawa grip onto him tighter. He leaned his side on Hajime’s back, head pillowed between his shoulder blades.

The trip took all of 3 minutes, Hajime slightly trying to catch his breath. Hearing Oikawa gasp behind him, he turned around to look at him. 

And God was he a sight. Hair slightly swept back from the wind, cheeks flushed from the chilly air, brown eyes full of stars. 

Without speaking Oikawa got off his seat, his hand still on Iwaizumi’s jacket. Now gripped his arm. Unconsciously pulling him towards the tree.  The petals of wisteria gently fell to the ground. The flowers were still in bloom, but they were slowly dying. So taking Oikawa now was perfect.

The wonderful thing about this tree was it’s color. Against the blazing flame of red leaves a singular blue wisteria sat amongst them. Dashes of purple traveling through like veins. The faintest green trying to peek through. A gem in a sea of molten lava. The flowers created a dome. A willow tree of wisteria. 

It was one of his paintings he was doing for his gallery. 

Oikawa stopped in front of the tree, delicately fingering through the flowers. His other hand still gripping Hajime’s jacket.  _ “Beautiful.” _ Oikawa whispered.

Hajime noticed a petal in Oikawa’s hair, hiding between tufts of waves. “You have a flower in your hair.” he pointed out.

Oikawa turned his face towards him, tilting his head to the side. The petal more visible now. “Can Iwa-chan get it out?”

Hajime reached up to pick the petal. Oikawa’s hair was just as soft as his hands, silky too. He wanted to run his fingers through it. But held back to urge to show him the petal.

“My favorite color,” Oikawa said softly, eyeing the petal in Hajime's hand.

And indeed it was, not a mix of purple and light blue. But instead, a lovely sky blue, with a hint of green. 

Oikawa gave a small smile, Hajime did the same. They both spoke at the same time, the same words, voices becoming one.

“Seafoam teal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa made it to nationals in my story because he deserves it. I also have an obsession drawing food, send tweet.  
> I will never stop thanking you for the support, thank you for reading, commenting, kudos, and bookmarks. I'm really grateful. Thank you :)  
> Also I have an image of this being around 23-ish chapters? Obviously that could change, but that's wht I have so far. Till next time !!
> 
> Next chapter (hopefully next week) :  
> -Grocery shopping  
> -Eyes  
> -Phone calls  
> -BokuAka get a push with Tooru's help


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not an update :<

A message to my readers

Alright, I know I haven't posted in about a month. Kinda disappointed in myself. Thing is, writing has been more of a chore than something fun for me to do lately. I've been back into my artistic phase too after almost a year of terrible art block. Yes, chapter 8 is in the works. It's also a longer chapter so it's taking a bit of time. More of me procrastinating than writing tbh. No, I won't be discontinuing/abandoning this fic. That would be even more of a failure to me. Besides I really love my ideas and I want to write them. I'm hoping to get the chapter out by next week latest. No promises tho.

I'm not sorry either. This is suppose to be a fic for enjoyment, and if I force myself to write it just doesn't feel right. :/ I'm trying tho. Updates are just gonna be random at this point. bi-monthly just doesn't work for me anymore. Probably monthly now if I can even achieve that. I do want to keep writing. it'd be a dream to be able to give content weekly. but I just can't physically, or mentally do that. 

I know that many of you will be disappointed and might even give up here at this point. I understand. I can't force people to stay, or keep reading. Hope you have a nice day.

Best Regards,

Ramen :)


	8. Olive Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you."
> 
>   
> "I hate you."
> 
> (please read chapter notes:))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter will get confusing if you don't know wtf is going on, so if you'll please take a few seconds to read this.
> 
> There are two paragraph breaks indicating that the story changes to a different characters pov (If you haven't noticed that already) and in this chapter there's going to be a phone call alternating between Hajime and Tooru. Just so you don't get confused Tooru will be italicized and Hajime will remain plain text. 
> 
> !!TW!! Very, Very slight mention of homophobia, and parent neglect/abandonment

“But Iwa-channnnnn, you always forget my chili oil.” Tooru pouted, crossing his arms across his chest. “Besides, grocery shopping together will be fun.”

He’d be going anyway, but Tooru still wanted to convince Iwaizumi just a little bit.

He was already dressed. A fluffy beige turtleneck tucked into a pair of light wash jeans. Hair already styled to perfection. He was wearing his glasses because his eyes were starting to strain.

No one would waste a freshly styled Oikawa Tooru lazing around at home. And he wanted his _chili oil._ The amount of reminders still didn’t bring Iwaizumi justice. So Tooru would just get it himself. 

Iwaizumi glared at him, “Your knee still needs to rest.”

“Blah, blah, that’s old news, it already feels better, now let’s go.” He said, slipping on his shoes. “Tut, tut, Iwa-chan hurry up.”

Iwaizumi grunted as his response, grabbing a thick sweater before locking the door behind them. They got on the elevator, Tooru almost pushed the button to the lobby until Iwaizumi caught his wrist, “The garage dumbass.”

That means Iwaizumi has a car. 

Wait a minute, this bitch has a damn car?

Tooru numbly pushed the button to the garage, right under the lobby button, before asking, “When did you have a car?”

“How else am I supposed to carry _that many_ groceries home?” Iwaizumi scowled. Well, he does have a point.

Tooru normally took the subway, he had his drivers license, but the thought of getting a car never passed his mind when he could take a train.

“What kind of car does Iwa-chan have?” The doors opened and they stepped out, Tooru casually walking next to Iwaizumi, “Maybe a jeep, you seem like a jeep kind of guy, or, oh! A truck? Or maybe-”

They stopped in front of a certain car, Iwaizumi going to the drivers side unlocking the car. Tooru stood there, jaw slack, staring at the car in awe. Ok, so it looks like Iwaizumi didn’t have a jeep, or a truck for that matter.

He lifted his glasses into his hairline to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He wasn’t. “You having a fucking BMW?!” He yelled, angrily pulling his glasses down. 

Iwaizumi pulled the handle and the door fucking _lifted._ His car has fucking wing doors. What. The. Fuck. 

Iwaizumi was already in the car, starting the ignition. His door was still open, meaning he could hear Tooru. The car turned to life, the blue accents looked like they were glowing, the dark grey contrasting with the brightness. 

“Well, if you have eyes you’d be able to tell.”

“Rude Iwa-chan.” Tooru said as he went to the passenger side, opening the door, it was a little strange since it didn’t open like a normal car door. 

He slipped into the seat, made of dark leather. The inside was cold, as expected. 

There were too many buttons to understand, and Tooru was sure one of them made the car explode. A touchscreen display on top of all that. Everything was sleek, and pristine, not a dust in sight.

“It’s cold, I’d expect this thing to have like, blast heaters or something with how much this probably costs.”

Right after Tooru said that his seat started warming up. He tried throwing a sharp glare at Iwaizumi, but from his smirk it didn’t seem to affect him. 

Tooru decided to lay back and get comfortable, seat belt already on. The ride was short, barely 5 minutes, but Tooru found himself dozing off. 

He didn’t get the best sleep last night, tossing and turning, trying to turn his brain off. The only thing it was telling him was to _study, study, study._ His body too tired to get up and work. The melatonin didn’t kick in as fast as it normally did. 

Nevertheless he still got 6 hours of decent sleep, just enough to keep him running for a day, or two. 

Thankfully, Iwaizumi didn’t seem to notice, his eyes glued to the road in front of them. 

Hajime turned back to the cart, seeing three new items hidden among the vegetables. He only turned around for 10 seconds to get some green onion and Oikawa somehow sneaked in more food that they didn’t need. 

Now Oikawa was leaning against the cart, arms on the handle, head resting on them looking at Hajime with an innocent expression. “This is the third time you put shrimp chips into the cart, and this is my last time telling you to put them back.” 

He glared at Oikawa, a frown on his face. Of course the bastard just tilted his head to the side, eyes widening and lips pulled into a pout. Saying in a much too high pitched voice, “I don’t know what Iwa-chan is talking about.”

Slowly pulling the cart away from Hajime, he smirked, eyes glinting. At the last second Oikawa dashed off, pushing the cart with him. “Oi, Trashykawa get back here!” he shouted. A few people glared in his direction.

He accidently grabbed the olives instead of the green onions off the shelf as he went to chase down Oikawa. 

He thought he saw him dash into the sweets aisle. _Of course that’s where he went._ But when Hajime got there he only saw a few kids grabbing Pocky off the shelfs and a child begging his mom for a bag of chips. _That damn brat._

Hajime went to the bread section figuring that milk bread wasn’t in the cart yet. Oikawa finished the bread he made within three days, including the jam Suga delivered. And how he didn’t get sick from all the carbs and sugar, Hajime didn’t want to know.

And guess what he found! Oikawa calmly looking through the bread section. The cart was abandoned right in front of Hajime.

Oh now this was his chance for revenge. 

He gripped the cart slowly angling the cart down the main section of the market, waiting for Oikawa to see him. 

Oikawa sifted through a few packages from what Hajime could see. His eyes lit up when he picked up two packets of milk bread, finally looking up. 

Oh, the shock on his face was worth it.

“Iwa-CHAN!” ,dropping the bread Oikawa reached towards the cart even though he was 10 feet away.

At the sound of his name Hajime ran.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi were on opposite sides of the store now. The grocery cart with Iwaizumi after 15 minutes of running around. 

Oikawa grabbed some milk while Iwaizumi got some flour and other necessities. 

And they both got a phone call. Just a millisecond apart. 

_“Hi Mama.”_

“What the hell do you want.”

_“I'm alright, how are you doing lately?”_

“I’m fine, and I don’t care.”

_“You can come over one day! I’ll text you the address, Oh! And my roommate…”_

“Don’t you fucking dare come near me or my apartment.”

_“The workshop’s been doing good, Takeda-san’s been thinking…”_

“You kicked me out a week after graduation, do you call that support?”

_“How’s Onee-chan and Takeru?”_

“Why would you care? You were the one who divorced him.”

_“Maaaaa, I’m too busy to date. Besides, my last boyfriend was a dick.”_

“Really? This shit again? I told you I’m gay. No it’s not a fucking phase.”

_“Mhm, I’ll text you the address. Yes, yes, I’ll make sure to call more.”_

“Stop calling me for fucks sake. I don’t have the energy to argue with you.”

_“I Love you Mama!”_

“I hate you.”

And the lines clicked, signaling both conversations done. 

* * *

They finished checking out, both males paying half since they had human decency. 

Tooru noticed that Iwaizumi was tense, shoulder more uptight and a deep scowl on his face. He gripped the bags too tightly, and he was biting his lip. Harshly enough that a bit of crimson was peeking through.

“Iwa-chan, stop biting your lip, you’re bleeding.” Tooru said. Knocking his shoulder lightly against Iwaizumi’s. 

He stopped like Tooru instructed but didn’t look his way. Iwaizumi’s been avoiding his gaze ever since he came back to put the milk in the cart. His responses were clipped and short when Tooru tried teasing him.

Did he do something wrong? The small battle between them was fun, and Iwaizumi seemed like he was enjoying himself. It couldn’t be Tooru’s fault. He never did anything wrong (Most of the time).

As they were putting away the groceries in the car Iwaizumi suddenly stopped his movements. Tooru sent him a questioning gaze, calling out his name, “Iwa-chan? Are you alright?”

Iwaizumi held up a pack of olives saying, “These are supposed to be green onions.”

“Clearly they’re olives Iwa-chan. Did you trip and hit your head on something?” Tooru lightly knocked his fist against Iwaizumi’s forehead until his hand was swatted away.

“I’ll just go get some real quick.” Iwaizumi said, putting the olives back. He put the rest of the groceries away with Tooru’s help. 

After Iwaizumi closed the trunk he turned towards the Mart again. Tooru chimed in, “I’m coming with. Gotta make sure Iwa-chan gets the right thing this time.”

He just rolled his eyes at Tooru’s statement, not putting up any resistance. 

His steps were more like light stomps, and his Okaasan was a fucking bitch. _Like always._

Why couldn’t she just understand? Why did every small thing turn into an argument? And it was so fucking annoy! He tried blocking her, distancing himself, and even changed his number but to no avail. The damn lady just wouldn’t give up. 

His head was clouded with anger, red, hot, and _burning._ Hajime didn’t care that she has a new husband that follows her every wish. He doesn’t care how she’s doing. Or that she now had a perfect little son who does all his chores, and finishes his homework, and has a cute girlfriend, and _doesn’t do art._

It’s absolutely infuriating! And disgusting. Why did his sexuality matter so much? Why is a male being with another male so sickening? 

Why does it matter who you choose to love?

Why does it matter if your child wants to follow their dreams?

Why can’t his Okaasan just love him for who he is?

Why wont she just leave his fucking life-

“Yahoo~ Iwa-chan!”

Thankfully, Oikawa interrupted Hajime’s thoughts before he entered the store. Or else he might’ve been called to security for the look he was giving off.

Oikawa was seated in a shopping cart, legs dangling off the end. Trying to extend his arms backwards with his head over the handle, making grabby motions with his hands. 

“Give me a ride!”

“No.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted. “I’m tired, gimme a ride.”

“You should’ve stayed in the car then.” Hajime crossed his arms giving him a bored look.

“Yes, but then Iwa-chan would’ve gotten pickles or something instead since his pea-sized brain doesn’t know the difference.”

“Shittykawa,” Hajime glowered. 

Oikawa swung his upper body forwards a split second before Hajime took the handle of the cart the latter was in and rushed him towards the automatic doors. 

Oikawa shrieked, loud enough to turn a few heads, covering his head with his arms. Hajime let out a grin as the door opened right before the cart hit them.

“IWA-CHAN YOU BRUTE, I ALMOST DIED!” 

And yup, you guessed it. More people turned around to glare at them. A few workers gave them a death stare that promised to kick them out.

Hajime chuckled at Oikawa’s shocked face. The tenseness in his shoulders fading. Grabbing the handles again.

“Oh, nononono. Iwa-chan hell no.” Oikawa swore. Trying, and failing, to get out of the cart before Hajime was moving again.

He fell back on his ass, back hitting again the cart making it shake. Holding on to the edges for dear life. 

Hajime drove them to the greens section, the shelfs covered with leafy vegetables. Colors ranging from forest green to a pale margarita.

Oikawa, being Oikawa, complained through the whole 45 second trip. Spitting useless, petty insults that fell on deaf ears. 

“You know,” Oikawa spoke up, “Maybe one of these plants matches your eyes.”

Hajime raised a brow, “You think?”

Oikawa nodded, eyeing the displays of vegetables until he pointed to something, “Maybe broccoli.”

Hajime shrugged as he grabbed what he initially came back here for. He threw it in the cart, completely forgetting the Oikawa was sitting there.

He yelped, scowling at Hajime, “Mean Iwa-chan. I need jam by the way.”

Now, Hajime wasn’t _that_ cruel. But a little play wouldn’t hurt, right?

Oikawa hummed as Hajime pushed him along.

Casually, he steered the cart towards the frozen section, his grip lighter on the handle. Then eventually to the fruits, next the cookware aisle, and back to the frozen.

He made it almost one and a half rounds until Oikawa realized what was happening. “We’re going in circles aren’t we.”

“Maybe,” Hajime teased. Oikawa looked back, sending him a threatening look. Hajime sent him a slightly lop-sided grin in return, his breathe becoming calmer.

He finally turned towards the correct isle, and slowly, oh so slowly, walked towards it. He could feel Oikawa’s annoyance. Hell the whole store probably felt it. 

“Go faster.” He whined.

“Your call.”

He broke out into a fast jog, racing across the store. People avoided them, giving them a clear path. 

This time Oikawa laughed. Loud and bright. Raising his arms up like he was on a roller coaster. Hajime laughed along with him. Enjoying the feeling of adrenaline and excitement wash over him. 

He doesn’t have to think about his mother now. Not when Oikawa’s there to cheer him up. 

Besides, Hajime’s built a life from his passion, and he doesn’t intend to stop any time soon.

* * *

Why is Eita furiously washing his eyes with water as Shirabu leans against the counter looking smug?

The answer?

Lemonade.

A few moments ago they were _trying_ to make lemonade. Eita's been craving some for a while now.

It ended up with sugar scattered across the floor and lemon juice squirted in Eita’s eyes.

And well… no actual lemonade being made.

“If you just let me do it myself-”

“Oh shut the fuck up.” Shirabu huffed. “You’re terrible at making food. I’m the only reason you’re surviving.”

“I was making a _drink._ ”

Shirabu rolled his eyes, opening their small fridge and grabbing the last lemon. Eita turned off the faucet, grabbing a paper towel to dry off his face.

“Don’t waste the last lemon.” he said. Shirabu ignored him picking up the bowl with water and dumping it into the sink.

Sugar crystals still stained the floor, looking like it snowed in the dorm. Eita picked up the small hand broom resting beside the trash can. 

They both worked in silence. Eita swept the sugar and other pieces of dust, clearing up the tiled floor. Shirabu doing whatever the fuck he was doing with the lemon.

Once Eita finished throwing everything away he dragged himself to the couch, sitting on the lumpy cushions as he stared at what was playing on their small tv. Still craving the sweet taste of lemonade.

A woman in a wedding dress was crying, as the consultants tried reassuring her or whatever. Wedding drama he guessed. 

Shirabu soon joined him, setting 2 glasses of lemonade down on the table. 

Eita scoffed, “I don’t want it anymore.” They both knew that was a lie.

“I’ll drink both of them then.” Shirabu said casually as he grabbed his own glass and leaned back into the couch. Leaning slightly towards Eita’s direction. _Is he doing that on purpose?_

Eita begrudgingly took the other glass and sipped. It tasted… good actually. “There’s too much sugar.” he grumbled instead.

“You douse your pancakes in syrup and add a shitload of sugar into tea or coffee. Don’t tell me that there’s too much sugar in your damn lemonade you shithead.”

“Looks like someone's gone _sour_.”

“You’re so unap _peeling_.”

Eita grinned, “What did the lemon say to the lime?”

“Nothing you idiot, lemons can’t fucking talk.” Shirabu deadpanned.

He chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. Of course Shirabu would pull something like that. Not like he had an answer to his question anyways. 

Shirabu was absorbed into the show that was airing in front of them. But Eita couldn’t focus on the tv. His attention was somewhere else.

Specifically someone else.

The terrible yet suiting bangs that were starting to cover half of his eye. Seriously, how could he see like that. The one (and only) time Eita got to cut his hair in highschool he messed up. Instead of cutting horizontally he “accidentally” rotated the scissors. That earned him a good shouting, but he couldn’t stop laughing at how terrible Shirabu looked.

For some reason he decided to keep it like that. Saying it was a hassle to style it differently since the damage was already done. Over time the style grew on Eita. It was wonky, uneven, but nevertheless adorable.

Eita imagined himself brushing the strands away from his face, or clipping them back when Shirabu was studying so he didn’t have to push it behind his ear constantly.

He reached out a hand letting his fingers glide through the bangs. Shirabu turned his head in Eita’s direction. Eyes widened and eyebrows raised. 

Eita wanted to caress his face, swipe his thumb across Shirabu’s cheek. Maybe give him a peck on the lips. Or his cheek. Make him into a blushing mess. Hold him, claim him his own, hold his hand and run through the city without care. 

But not yet.

_Soon._

But for now, he settled into their usual banter.

“You need a haircut.”

Shirabu was still looking at him, something unreadable in his eyes. Maybe he was thinking the same thing. Eita could hope.

And god, Eita hoped he didn’t see that wrong because he thought he saw a light tick of Shirabu’s lips lifting into a smile. 

“Want to help me?” he asked.

Now it was Eita’s turn to raise his brows. 

His hand was still threaded through Shirabu’s bangs. Slowly he pushed them behind his ear. Letting his fingers lightly drag down Shirabu’s helix. 

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Eita swore there was pink dusted on his ear, and Eita was definitely blushing himself. Shirabu didn’t point it out if he saw. 

“Let’s go then.”

* * *

Done. After months of excruciating work Hajime was finally done with all his gallery pieces. 

He looked to the right at the huge canvas he had to finish in a few months. Including his next show that was in the same timeframe. He still needed to stockpile his ideas, sketch them out, and to all the painting and _ugghhh._

It was draining. Giving him many sleepless nights where his mind would think of idea after idea, saving, planning and before he knew it, it was already 4 a.m. The stress of not wanting to do a painting even though he wants to at the same time. The time gap he had seemed so long, but in reality it felt like a few seconds had gone by. 

But in the end it was always worth it. To see his hard work being admired by not only him, but other people. Creating a living out of his passion was rare in society, but he was able to climb himself up. To feel the accomplishment and success of his hard work. 

It’s worth it.

His gallery was in 2 days, meaning he was still super busy. The art industry never gives you a solid break. 

_Ah well, time to call Ukai and Irihata-san._

Hajime wiped his hands off on the rag hanging from his smock. He grabbed for his phone on his desk dialing both gallery owners. 

_“‘Ello?”_ One of the lines picked up. 

“Do you still not have my number saved after 6 years?”

_“Give me a break kid.”_

Irihata picked up, _“Iwaizumi, how are you?”_

“I’m doing alright, you?”

_“Why didn’t ya ask me that when I picked up?”_ Ukai huffed.

Hajime ignored him, “I’m ready for the movers. Just finished varnishing everything. Should be set for Tuesday.”

_“Atta boy!”_

_“Great job Iwaizumi, I’ll contact them today. Thank you for your hard work.”_ said Irihata.

_“Yeah, yeah, shut up u old bastard-”_

_“And obviously the more mature one.”_

_“You guys still up for the bar after? Saturday night?”_

Both of the other males gave their approval, saying their goodbyes they ended their call. 

The night after every one of Hajime’s events the three went to drink as a congratulations. It became a tradition after he was finally at the drinking age. It was a time where he could explain his pieces, and tell his ideas to his most trusted. Not that he didn’t trust people like Kuroo, or Daichi, but they didn’t know much about art (though they still supported him and tried to make sense of paints and drawing)

When he spoke to people who really understood it, the concept and integrity, it made Hajime want to never stop. Random people in class that he might be working close to, professors, art critics, and especially his managers.

Ah, speaking of managers. He should also message Kiyoko. From what he’s gathered, someone's been trying to get in contact with him for… _something?_ Hajime’s not too sure. All he knows is that the place is faraway.

Quickly sending Kiyoko a message he put his phone down, taking off his smock. He’d left the windows cracked open to speed up the drying process. He locked the studio door before he left, taking a quick lookover to make sure everything was finished. 

It felt weird when he finished all of his pieces for an event. Well, he still had the commission piece. But he still had a bunch of time before he needed it completed. 

Oikawa was in the kitchen warming up some milk bread from the looks of it.

Oikawa... _Shit._

Hajime completely forgot about Oikawa. 

How could he forget about the whiny, gets-everything-he-wants, annoying, fluffy (Looking, he has yet to feel it, sadly) haired chihuahua in an insanely attractive human body? Who’s literally obsessed with him, or well, his paintings.

_Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuck._

He needed him out of the house for at least an hour, and he had no idea how to do that. Hajime had to be there monitoring everything and he didn’t want to disturb his friends. 

“Iwa-chan, don't just stand there ogling. I know I’m irresistible but have a sense of decency at least.”

Hajime blinked, realizing that he _was_ staring. He covered a cough looking away. A light ting of red covering his cheeks. “Sorry, um… do you have any plans on Tuesday?”

“Hmm,” Oikawa looked up at the ceiling, eyebrows pulled together and lips pouted, “I haven’t planned anything. I haven’t seen Aka-chan in a while. I might go over to the gym.”

“The gym?” Hajime Leaned against the pantry door with a questioning look. 

Oikawa took out the milk bread from the microwave biting into it, letting out a satisfying hum. “Iwa-chan really does have short term memory.” he smirked.

Hajime glared at him, silently prodding him to go on. “Aka-chan takes classes there most Tuesdays.”

_Thank fucking god._

“You should go.” 

Oikawa raised a brow at him, gaze thinning to ice, “Do you want me to leave the apartment _that_ bad?”

Hajime’s eyes widened. This is not how he wanted this to go. Damn it. “No! No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, you haven’t seen Akaashi in a while right? It would be nice to catch up.”

His gaze softened a tad, before fully dropping. A soft smile playing on his lips before lifting the bread and taking another bite. “Yeah, I do miss him. I’ll go.”

Hajime released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, making his way to the couch. Oikawa followed his lead with the half-finished milk bread in hand. He picked up the remote, turning on the tv. 

“What should we watch?”

Hajime shrugged, scanning the shows and movies. He picks up Oikawa’s socked feet and dragged them onto his lap. Causing a yelp to come from him. “Iwa-chan?!”

“You were going to put your feet on me eventually.” Oikawa grinned and rolled his eyes. He picked a random show continuing to chew on his bread. 

After a few minutes Oikawa spoke up, “The gallery on Friday.” Hajime looked in his direction, show completely forgotten, “Do you think the artist will be there? Even if they don’t reveal themselves. Acting as one of the spectators.”

Oikawa looked genuinely curious, and if Hajime had the heart to tell him the truth he would. But he couldn’t risk himself like that. And damn Oikawa for being right. Yes, Hajime went to his galleries acting clueless like he wasn’t the one who hand painted everything. And it’s worked for years. 

Trying to keep his expression as stoic as possible he said, “Maybe. Or they’re sleeping and letting their managers do all the work.”

“Managers… You think they’d have more than one?”

_Shit._

“They are pretty famous right?” Oikawa nodded, “And he’s featured in two galleries. Meaning more attention, and exposure. It would make sense so he isn’t overwhelmed. I’m sure he doesn’t do everything himself either. That would be a nightmare.”

Oikawa hummed, mulling over the information. Hajime prayed that he wouldn’t question him anymore. He didn’t want to go further into this topic. 

“You know a lot about this stuff.” Well yeah, it’s pretty much his _job._

Hajime didn’t say anything, turning his attention back to the television. 

“You also said he and not they.” Oikawa casually pointed out. 

_Fuck._

* * *

As Tooru walked to the gym he saw a big truck in the parking lot of the complex. It looked like a moving truck of sorts. 

Maybe a new tenant was moving in.

He gave it no thought, steadily making his way to the gym. Bag bouncing on his shoulder with each step. Bokuto should be working at this time too. And Tooru was definitely concerned about how Akaashi and Bokuto haven’t met yet.

Well, he did know that the classes were on different floors, and Bokuto probably worked around the weights. From what he knew, dumbbells and pole dancing did not go together. 

When he finished changing in the locker rooms Akaashi was already there along with several other participants. Most of them were stretching, while others were on their phone or rummaging through their bags.

“Aka-chan! Your favorite person is here~” Tooru waved his fingers and flipped his hair, attracting attention from the people around. 

Akaashi snapped his head in Tooru’s direction looking at him with slightly widened eyes. Boo, he wanted more expression from Akaashi. Tooru pouted and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes, “Come on, be a little more expressive here. It’s been weeks since you last saw me.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes and got up from his mat, coming over. He was wearing tight black shorts with a light blue crop top. He wrapped his arms around Tooru pulling him into a light hug. Softly Akaashi said, “Hey, Tooru.”

He returned the hug, trying not to put too much weight on Akaashi since he was carrying his gym bag. He stepped back from the hug looking around the room, “Now where’s Yukie-chan and Kaori-chan?”

They were the instructors of the class and one of Tooru’s favorite couples. Akashi sighed, “Bored of me already?”

“I can never get bored of Aka-chan, but I haven’t seen them in a while.” Tooru continued scanning the room till his gaze landed on Yukie discussing something with Kaori. Tooru waved, “Yukie-chan! Kaori-chan!”

They looked in Tooru’s direction confused, until they recognized him, giving him a smile. They came over hand in hand to greet him. 

The four of them caught up with each other until it was time for the class to begin. Kaori smirked at Tooru, “Gonna go shirtless again?”

Tooru smirked back winking at her, “Don’t I always?”

He took off his shirt and threw it somewhere near Akaashi’s bag. And god he loved the attention. The people staring at him in awe, and he’s sure that a few will come over to him later. Honestly he would consider being a model if he didn’t love architecture so much. Following his Mom’s footsteps.

They could’ve been the mother and son duo. Taking over the raging industry. Maybe in another lifetime. 

The session started off with stretching and warming up the muscles. A light layer of sweat covered Tooru’s body. He hasn’t done this in a while. 

He was using the pole next to Akaashi, remembering the feeling of twisting and bending his body to his will. 

Only his feet were holding him up on the pole, his back arching to bend into a needle, slowly spinning to the ground. Keiji then let go, gracefully spinning around the pole a few times, watching the other participants practicing on their own. 

Tooru fumbled just a bit, but easily caught himself moving into an extended lift.

Keiji continued his own routine, flipping into an upside down split, letting himself slide down till flipping back over and slinging his leg around the pole spinning. He moved to extend his leg and lift off his other one using his inner thighs and his arm to hold on as he spun. He let go, letting one of his legs touch the floor tilting his hips to stack on top of each other into a tilt. Using the pole to balance himself with one arm as the other was high in the air in line with his leg. 

Keiji let himself stay in that position for a few seconds before both of his legs came to rest on the ground. Chest puffing with much needed oxygen. 

He landed on his knees, hands coming to rest in front of him, the only thing holding him up from falling face flat on the floor. His arms and legs were burning. Sweat was dripping down his face and body. 

He just performed one of his hardest routines he’s ever done.

“That was amazing Akaahi-san.” He heard Yukie come to his side, patting his back in approval. She handed him a bottle which he took graciously, almost chugging half of it down.

His words came out breathy but genuine, “Thank you- Shirofuku-san.”

Keiji lifted his gaze, wiping the sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand. 

He saw Tooru jump into a lifted split then twist into a hold, one hand clinging to the pole as the other was stretched out to his side. “Looks like he still remembers.” Yukie said.

Keiji hummed, too tired to talk in coherent words. Yukie left to go to another person saying that class will end soon.

Tooru finished his sequence, panting slightly. Sweat shining on his toned body. “I missed this.” he gasped.

He sat down on the floor, leaning against the pole facing Keiji. He saw a slight twitch in his knee. Seems like it was getting irritated. Keiji opened his mouth to warn Tooru but he was beaten to it, “Yes, yes Aka-chan I know. I’ll take a break. Not like I want the volleyball incident to happen again like a few weeks ago.”

_Wait, what?_ What the hell happened a few weeks ago? And why wasn’t Keiji informed? His face contorted into confusion and anger as he asked, “What do you mean _a few weeks ago?”_

Tooru stared at Keiji, blinking. His face gave nothing away. But his body movements did. He was playing with his fingers, and his other leg was bouncing. 

Keiji’s voice hardened, “Tooru.”

Slowly the latter’s eyes showed a bit of fear yet his face remained passive. His voice came out cold and irritated, “I was just in Osaka playing volleyball. I tripped and hurt my knee a bit. Coach Foster’s sister came to check on it, it was fine. I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Tooru narrowed his eyes at him, “You overworked yourself again. And you knew it too. Your pride overtook you-”

“If I still had my worthless pride then I’d be playing volleyball right now.”

Keiji shut his mouth, burning his gaze into Tooru’s as he did the same. 

He understood Tooru’s decision to quit. And because of that Keiji wanted to make sure he doesn’t give himself a major injury that could ruin his life forever. He didn’t want Tooru to not be able to play volleyball. That’s why he was so cautious with him.

Keiji looked away, breaking the contact, “I know you can take care of yourself. I’m just worried.”

“I’m taking a break right now am I not?”

“Apologies.”

Tooru scooted next to Keiji, leaning his head on his shoulder. He put his hand on top of his, using his thumb to rub circles on Keiji’s wrist. “Let’s get hot chocolate after. Iwa-chan pretty much kicked me out, so I might as well take my time going back.”

“Ok.”

That was Tooru’s way of apologizing and forgiving. Subtle, never directly said, but you knew it when he meant it.

“Hey Keiji,”

He hummed.

“Can I see your routine after class is over.”

He hummed again. 

Kaori clapped her hands signaling the class to be over. People started toweling off sweat, gathering bags, and conversing to each other. Keiji and Tooru stayed in the same position. Soon everyone started leaving, only Kaori, Yukie, Tooru, and Keiji left.

Yukie and Kaori came over, bags slung on their shoulder, seemingly ready to go. Yukie asked, “Are you guys staying for extra practice?”

Keiji nodded, and Tooru waved them goodbye. 

It took them a few moments before getting up. Tooru put his shirt back on and took a drink from his water bottle as Keiji got ready to show his performance. 

He went over to the speaker hooking up his phone and finding the music. Once he was done he got in position waiting for Tooru. 

Tooru sat against a pole closest to Keiji’s phone so he could start the music.

_3._

_2._

_1._

_Start._

“Yeah, let me get a few more mats. Gimme a few minutes and take a break.” He said to Konoha. 

They ran out of yoga mats _again._ The gym’s been getting pretty packed lately. Most likely because people want to lose weight before the winter holidays. Even though it's mid November.

Koutarou sees a group of men and women passing to the exit. Did they just finish a class? He remembered that Oikawa said something about dance classes on Tuesdays.

He got to the elevator and pressed the button to go up. When the doors opened Yukie and Kaori were standing there. “Hey hey! Yukippe, Kaori!”

Kaori answered, “Hey Bokuto. More mats?”

“Gyms’ been packing lately.”

This time Yukie spoke up, “There’s still a few people doing extra practice in there.”

“I’ll be good.” He promised. They switched positions, Koutarou entering the elevator as they stepped out. “See you guys later!”

The two waved back at him as the doors closed. He let out a deep breath, leaning against the wall and pushing the button to the third floor. 

Koutarou was honest to god tired. The busy gym also included clients trying to add as many sessions before the holiday season arrived. He couldn’t imagine what after the New Years would be like. 

He did know that it would come with the opportunity to meet and train new people. That he was excited for. 

And River. Koutarou knew that having a dog, nonetheless a pup would be exhausting. He didn’t think he would be _this_ exhausting. But, it was worth it. Even if he had to wake up a little earlier, take a few more minutes before he left to play with River, it was the happiest he'd ever been. 

Koutarou was slowly getting the hang of the new routine. The thought made him smile when he imagined River waiting for him by the door, barking happily when he came back from work. 

The bundle of fluff reminded him of Hinata a bit. 

_Ah, don’t think about that right now._

The doors slid open and he stepped out. The doors were right down the hall. As he moved closer he heard music playing from inside the room. 

The closer he neared the louder it got. Koutarou put a hand on the handle hoping to not interrupt. He entered and saw two _very attractive men._

He recognized them. Oikawa was sitting against a pole, his back facing the door, and…

_Akaashi?_

Akaashi was swiftly gliding around the pole, looking like gravity was just a myth. An _angel._

Koutarou just stood there mesmerized, hand still on the handle, his eyes were glued to Akaashi dancing. 

It seemed that none of them noticed Koutarou entering, and he didn’t want to interrupt. 

The moves weren’t as sensual as he thought pole dancing was. It was more graceful, fluid movements, and calculated construction.

It was enthralling. A gem hidden behind a stone exterior.

Slowly, the music was fading, and Akaashi’s movements slowed. Dropping himself from the lift to a tilt, arm coming up to line up with his raised leg. Facing Koutarou, eyes closed. 

His cheeks were flushed, and he was breathing heavily. He then relaxed his legs, letting the raised one fall to the ground and gently opened his eyes.

And maybe both of their expressions were the same at that moment.

Koutarou knew that he was most likely furiously blushing, and from Akaashi’s widening eyes and pink starting to stain his cheeks, soon they were wearing the same look. 

“B-Bokuto-san?” And oh, his voice was beautiful too. 

Oikawa turned around seeing what Akaashi was seeing. “Bo-chan! Did you enjoy the show?” he smirked, winking.

Koutarou was still staring at Akaashi, and he seemed to be doing the same. Koutarou tried finding his voice, clearing his throat he said, “That was… beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Akaashi bowed his head respectfully then lifted his gaze back. He wanted to hear that voice more.

“Um, I just needed to get more mats, because well, uh the gyms’ been really busy lately so-”

Akaashi nodded, turning to Oikawa and whispering something. Koutarou made his way across the room to the closet to gather what he needed. 

He heard Oikawa saying something in a slight louder voice, “Well I’ll be off to the changing room, bye lovebird.”

“Tooru!” Oikawa laughed in response.

Oikawa’s laughter slowly faded as he left the room. Koutarou was still facing the closet. The air between them was awkward, no one said a word. Until Koutarou finally spoke up, “Uh, how are you doing?”

After a few moments Akaashi said, “I’m alright, you?”

He turned around, finding Akaashi leaning against a pole closer to him. Was he staring or…?

“Good, good. Your routine was amazing, how long have you been taking classes?”

“About a year and a half.”

A year and a half and they haven’t bumped into each other _once._

“Well-”

“You probably have to go, don’t you?” Was he trying to avoid him? This was not how he wanted their first conversation to go. 

“Yeah, sorry for getting in your way.” Koutarou made his way to the opened door, mats rolled up in his arms. “I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll come with you.” Now _that_ surprised Koutarou. Akaashi walked towards his bag, quickly zipping it up and slinging it over his shoulder. He rushed towards him and turned off the lights before looking at him, “Ready to go?”

Koutarou nodded, words leaving his brain. He and Akaashi walked side by side in silence, this time it was less awkward. The elevator ride was also quiet, save for some rustling and Akaashi asking if he needed help, to which he declined.

Until Koutarou stumbled and dropped the mats on the floor, luckily they were tied so they didn’t roll open. “Yeah, a little help would be nice,” He said sheepishly.

The corners of Akaashi’s lips lifted into a small smile, and _wow,_ was everything about him mesmerizing? 

They picked up the mats right before the elevator opened. Koutarou walked to where he last saw Konoha, near the resting station. Akaashi followed right beside him.

“Well, I guess this is it.” He said as they placed the mats down and faced each other. Koutarou put his arms on his hips, looking at Akaashi. The other was fiddling with his fingers, slowly lifting his gaze. 

“Bye Bokuto-san.”

“See ya ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi turned around, leaving Koutarou standing there as he watched his back getting smaller and smaller till it was out of his line of vision.

_That was the first time I said his name out loud._

* * *

Tooru finished spreading the sauce on the dough as Iwaizumi came out of his room, a towel wrapped around his neck. Looks like he just finished taking a shower.

He came to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and to see what Tooru was doing. “Pizza?”

“Mhm, what toppings do you want.”

“Don't care.”

Tooru started adding the ripped mozzarella, spreading it evenly across the surface. When he finished he called out, “Iwa-chan come here.”

Iwaizumi was still in the kitchen looking in the pantry but turned around, “Why.”

“Because you need to add the toppings. I don’t want you complaining, or picking off food like a five year old.”

Tooru crossed his arms and gave Iwaizumi a stern look. He snorted, and grinned, “What are you? My Dad?”

Tooru immediately gasped, offended. “Mean Iwa-chan! No dinner for you tonight.”

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi lifted his hands up in surrender. Coming over to see what there was in the fridge.

He grabbed a few ingredients and put them on the counter. Tooru scoffed, “Don’t forget the tomatoes.”

He turned his head from the fridge giving Tooru a questioning look, “Tomato on tomato.”

Tooru just rolled his eyes in response, holding his hand out. Soon enough a tomato was placed in his palm, which he washed and cut into slices as Iwaizumi gathered the other toppings and washed them separately. 

They got to work, placing vegetable after vegetable, arguing over which slices got more or less. A few of the ingredients were thrown around, Tooru might’ve gotten a sprinkle of cheese in his hair. Iwaizumi had tomato sauce swiped across his cheek. Laughter and smiles were shared, resulting in a decent-ish looking pizza but one that would surely taste amazing.

Soon the pizza was baking in the oven as the two of them started cleaning up. Suddenly Tooru remembered a conversation from Friday when he saw a small oval-like fruit on the counter.

“Hey Iwa-chan. Look at me.”

“Hmm?”

Tooru walked closer to Iwaizumi, taking his face in one hand. He might’ve imagined the small blush taking up Iwaizumi’s face. He brung the olive next to his eye examining the color. 

Yeah, he was right. Tooru stepped back showing Iwaizumi the fruit between his fingers while saying,

“Your eyes are olive green.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was difficult to write for some reason, mainly writers block. But I'm back !! and no I have no prior knowledge of pole dancing, or how classes work, this is all made up in my head.
> 
> Updates should be regular now !! (bi-monthly/every other week/mainly Sundays) meaning the next update will be on 1/24
> 
> Next time (I think probably, idk stuff might change)  
> \- Gallery day :D  
> -BokuAka+SakuAtsu+KuroKen crumbs  
> \- Daisuga backstory (kinda idk yet)  
> \- ramen
> 
> If you guys ever have headcanons, or ideas you might like to see in this fic go ahead and comment them !! I might put them in (and obviously give credit for the amazing ideas) And thank you for the hits and kudos, i just,,, *inaudible squealing*


End file.
